Ryan.

What a guy.

I am always amazed how much books affect my subconscious mind. Last night before leaving my parents house after our Sunday visit, my Dad told me he'd never seen 'The Hunger Games.' We had a very brief conversation about it, and it went something very much like this:

Dad - I've never seen 'The Hunger Games.'

Fie-Fie Marie - Really.

Dad - Nope.

Fie-Fie Marie - Huh. Well, it's pretty good. Pretty intense.

And... scene. I think he silently told me he planned to see it, and I silently game him the 'go for it' knod.

Then all last night, when I did dream, I was on a mountain with about thirty other people, and we had to survive many elements. Ribbons were hung up -- some kind of memento to stand for us -- and they'd be taken down as each person was swept away in a flood or whatever. It wasn't all gladiator, thank goodness, but still -- it did have survival of the fittest written all over it. My brother Jon and his wife Trina got off the mountain, and then came back with the rescue crew. By the time they got back, there were like four of us left and everyone was super surprised I had made it. I was mad as cheese at them, too, I was swinging my filthy knee-length braid all over the place giving them a speech about how "yeah, I thought I'd be gone, too, but I'm not, so take that!"
When I woke up, I laid there for a few minutes going over the dream and thinking about what a weirdo I am.
This was, by far, my most mild 'Hunger Games' inspired dream. The first time I read through the series, I was in the arena for several nights in a row.
The second time I read through it, K.J. was in the arena. Much worse.

And now they are sitting there on my shelf, being frequently lent out and enjoying a place surrounded by many other wonderful works.
I just love books. For real.
My bookshelfs are all overflowing, and I need another big one. But really, I'd have to buy two so they'd match and then move my big beautiful one into my room to house all the smaller book case books. I'd love to do that. But I don't want to buy two bookshelves.
The moral of the story is that books get into my head and manifest themselves in interesting ways.
And... scene.

I had a most entertaining weekend, as far as politics are concerned. You may not know this, but history and the political system are two of my grand passions. I had sort of forgotten about this for the last little while, but since taking Mr. Beagley's history class as a sophomore and becoming a national extemp-er my senior year in speech and debate (nerd!) I simply love to know about and think about and discuss the most ancient and recent happenings. This has not been the case for awhile -- I've let myself get disgusted and then lazy, but something about this weekend and the curiousity that led to researching Romney's new running mate re-ignited a passion for me. And also some tummy discomfort, because people are so rude to each other just because they believe something else. Which is -- ridiculous. Sometimes I think I'm two years old, but then I realize, I'm not. I'm at least five. Disrespectful (clarify that: mean) people are the ones that are two.
So -- let us be clear: I do not belong to a political party. My husband does, and more power to him. But I don't. I sometimes lean one way and sometimes lean another, and they both make me mad. So I have formed my own party, based on my years of study and adoration of the governmental system, and I am now a proud Marie-icanat.
The trouble is, no one I talked to (my family, basically) was as lit on fire about this weekends events as I was. They either didn't like the choices, didn't care, or flat out hate all political discussion, so you've got to respect that. But dangit! I wanted someone to get excited over ideas with me.
Here is a fact about me: I don't have my bachelors degree (yet). Do you want to know why? Because I changed so many times between theater, history, and American Studies that I now have enough credits for about four degrees but no degree. I just felt so strongly about what I was studying and wanted to study more. But none of those things a degree make. History (I think) is finally the winner, and I only have two semesters left... which I could do through Independent Study. But I have been waiting for inspiration. I felt inspired this weekend for the first time in a long time. The Double B surprised me very much by saying if we moved up to the northern end of Utah, I should just go back to BYU itself and get a double major on campus, since I'm pretty much there credit wise, anyway. He said it would take sacrifice for the family, but we could do it.
It was the most romantic thing said ever.
We'll see. But either way.
The system is flawed, but it is so stinking cool. My passion for the American founding, and the founding fathers, just knows no bounds. I have the same love for my country that I imagine people all over the world have for their countries.
We were made to love, really. We should think about doing more of it.

This Friday is the Double B's birthday. He will turn 32.

He is just the coolest. Not perfect, thank goodness, but pretty much great and pretty much the best possible partner for me. I'm trying to settle on birthday plans that will be extra special ('cause I just love birthdays so darn much).
This is a real phenomenom: I am a little bit ... high-strung (this is shocking, I know). The Double B has this effect on me like... chicken noodle soup? A warmed blanket? That marvelous drug they give you right before surgery to make you feel happy inside? He is just so comforting to me. I've said it before, but if he tells me "It's going to be okay," I believe him. Sometimes I pre-empt him and say "It's going to be okay, isn't it." And he'll smile like he's really accomplished something and say "It sure is." And I believe him.
That is worth it's weight in gold. In diamonds, actually.
August 17th is my favorite day of the year.

Olivia just came in with her yellow Belle nightgown on and her hair piled up on top of her head so that we could have the following conversation:

Liv - Mom, guess what my favorite animal is?

Mom - (makes many wild guesses, like hippopotamous and snake, all seeming extra hilarious but all wrong).

Liv - It starts with a 'k'!

Mom - Kangaroo!

Liv - NO! K... K... Cou-gar! (brief conversation about that tricky 'C' and 'K') I just love the BYU Cougars!

Now that is brain-washing. And not from me, either. That is all her Dad's handiwork.
That's all for today. K.J. is closing out his summer with a rousing game of Lego Star Wars. Katelyn is wearing one glove and eating an orange.
And... scene.