Kitchen Renovation

When James and I bought this house we bought it knowing that the kitchen was in need of some major repair. This picture doesn't do the grossness of it justice, but if you look closely at the corener by the stove you might be able to tell there is no counter top. We covered up the missing pieces with bits of white board until we could get it replaced. Yeah, that's really white trash.

All of the laminate on the countertops was bubbling up/peeling off, and the cabniets and wall under the sink was molding away from some sort of leak.

So this is the before.

This is the during, and yeah unfortunately the damage under and behind the sink was worse than we thought, so my kitchen was in this state for a few days.

We had no sink or running water in the kitchen for several days, and yeah that's a pile of dirty dishes on the stove. Awesome!



Luckily James is the world's best handy man. He can fix everything!

He only had a few freakouts during the process where he had to go outside and yell and beat things. One of the freakouts may or may not have involved this lazy suzanne being in his way.

And now I have a sink that I dare put my dishes in,

and actual countertops, not white boards,


and courntertops that don't make my want to disinfect them every thirty seconds.

The finished product!
(Now we just need to get rid of that ancient stove, and it will be perfect!)

On to the next things to fix: finish painting the rest of the house.

Holy, It's Been Two Years!

This is my photo montage of the past two years, accompanied to two of my favorite songs/two of James' least favorite songs. Enjoy!

"This is the First Day of My Life"

This is the first day of my life. I swear I was born right in the door way.

I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed; they're spreading blankets on the beach.

Yours is the first face that I saw. Think I was blind before I met you.



Now I don't know where I am, don't know where I've been, but I know where I want to go.



And so I thought I'd let you know, these things take forever. I especially am slow.






But, I realize that I need you, and I wonder if I could come home.





Remember the time you drove all night just to meet me in the morning.

And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed. You felt as if you just woke up.

And I said, "This is the first day of my life. I'm glad I didn't die before I met you.

But I don't care, I could go anywhere with you, and I'd probably be happy."

So if you want to be with me, with these things there's no telling, we'll just have to wait and see.

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery.

Besides maybe this time is different; I mean I really think you like me.

"The Way I Am"

If you were falling, then I would catch you.

You need a light, I'd find a match.

Cause I love the way you say good morning,

and you take me the way I am.

If you are chilly, here take my sweater.

Your head is aching, I'll make it better.

Cause I love the way you call me baby,

and you take me the way I am.

I'd buy you Rogane when you start losing all your hair.

Sew on patches to all you tear.

Cause I love you more than I could ever promise,

and you take me the way I am.

You take me the way I am.

HAPPY SECOND ANNIVERSARY, BOO! I've loved every minute of it!

(Yes Amanda, I theft your idea. Great idea by the way!)

Things that Make You Go, Hmmmm

I googled "looks of utter confusion" and this is the best I could come up with.

While it might be surprising to some, there are quite a few things that make me go hmmm/wtf/I don't get/why are you the way you are. Such things like, where do baby corn come from and why do they taste so delicious, why does James insist on talking in a high pitch voice when he is angry, what in the heck are the song lyrics to the song"Things that Make You Go, Hmmm" actually trying to communicate, how do people live in such disgustingly unclean houses, who decided that math was actually important to learn, how do people not love tomatoes, why can't everyone be more like me, etc., etc. etc..

Well recently there have been two MAJOR things that have made me go, hmmmmmm.

Confusing Incident Number 1:

The main character of this "tale" may or may not be related to me (but he/she probably is.) He/she may or may not be well liked by me (but he/she probably isn't). And, to protect (not the person's identity) but me from having to deal with any more uncomfortable issues, we shall from henceforth refer to this he/she as Person X.

Now Person X is not young. Person X is definately not under the age of 7 like you my want to imply after hearing this story, but please refrain from doing so. Person X is older than me. Now Person X did not get a birthday present from us last year. Mostly because, well we were extremely poor at the time, we were busy with something much more important, Person X does not qualify in likableness or age to recieve a birhtday present (even if Person X was liked he/she wouldn't have got a present,) and no one else that is related to me in the same way Person X is got a present either. (We like to keep things fair around here.) Now we were recently informed that Person X was highly offended/saddened by our lack of a gift. (Now I would also like to insert that Person X did recieve a very polite phone call of birthday happiness.) We were informed that we should be kinder this year and give Person X a nice, little gift.

Thing that makes me go, hmmm: why is Person X so childish/materialistic that he/she cannot be merely satisfied with a phone call of birthday happiness?!

Answer me this. Are you offended by relatives (maybe immediate relatives) not giving you a gift for your birthday? Can you be satisfied with just a simple phone call?

Confusing Incident Number 2:

Now I don't have to be so coded this go around because no one from my work reads/will ever read my blog (although Person X doesn't either.) At faculty meeting this morning my principal informed the English teachers that we should be teaching cursive because it is a dying art and it forces students to write nicer.

Thing that makes me go, hmmm: who in the hell teaches cursive in the 8th grade?! Shouldn't I be more concerned with the fact that I have students that read on a 2nd grade reading level, that I recently had to teach students the difference between a capital "I" and a lower case "i," that after two weeks of "reviewing" parts of speech I still have too many students that can't tell me the difference between a verb and a noun?

Answer me this. Do you think teachers should still be teaching cursive in an age when computers are so readily available?

Gangsta's Paradise (Just for You, Chad)

Dangerous Minds: a thriller, crime drama starring Michelle Pfeirffer, an ex-marine teacher struggling to connect with her students in an inner city school.

There are so many connections between Michelle and I, right? (Minus the ex-marine part and the inner city school part, but I totally look just like that when I'm in my "teacher get-up" I swear.)

Who would have thought that teaching in the small, farming community of Gunnison , Utah would require such rough, badass teacher skills, like breaking-up a hallway brawl (I may or may not have forgot to make sure the kid that was getting repeatedly punched in the head was ok, and just left him in the hall,) preventing a ferocious pencil throwing attack, turning in a graphic drawing of a student killing another student, and engaging in (every Thursday) an intense glare-off with the future leader of the Mexican gang. (Little girl you do scare, but I am skillfully trained in the art of the Lloyd glare, and you cannot top that, but really you do scare me.)

The Alveys Move to Centerfield and Some Other Awkward/Important Things That Have Happened

Our House

So we've finally done it. We have moved to . . . uh hmmm, cough, cough . . . Centerfield. We are officially Sanpete Countians (artificial whorays!). On the brighter side we're also officially homeowners? (I put a questions make because I'm questioning the brighter side of that statement currently.) Buying and moving into a "previously dwelled in residence" has been much more of a pain in my progressively expanding backside than I had imagined.

On the 9th of August, and after much ado about not nothing, (see Chad I just made an allusion, not illusion, to a Shakespearian play, oh and a pun as well) we were ceremoniously welcomed into our home by the previous owners with a disgustingly unclean house and a large car sized pile of trash (aka nudy mags, broken glass, and random tidbites of unwanted items) on the side of the house that clearly couldn't have fit into anything called a trashbag/can, and when I say clearly couldn't fit, I really mean clearly could have. After several fun filled days of cleaning, stripping ugly bear/deer/moose wallpaper, painting, cleaning, cleaning, throwing away nudy mags, cleaning, and unpacking, and maybe an emotional breakdown or two/five, we are finally somewhat settled into our new home.

In other awkward/important information, I've been teaching at my new job for nearly three weeks now. Thus far I've had two small breakdowns, accidentally excused my students 15 minutes early from class twice, have heard every possible joke about me looking like I should actually be in 8th grade from both teachers and students, have had one pencil throwing incident, have been yelled at by one student about how much he hates me and my class more times than I could possibly count, have kicked one student out of my class already (clearly the same student doing all the yelling), and have had two awkward male students show up on my front lawn staring at my house. It's been a very eventful three weeks at work.

Also James has started his long, daily treks to class in Richfield and work in Monroe. He hates school already, and I hate him getting home at 7 or later every night.

James and I went nearly two weeks with no hot water. Taking freezing showers makes for a happy us. Luckily we have that fixed now, thanks to my handy husband.

Our Centerfield neighbors are . . . nice/uncomfortable to let into your home. We've been showered with breads, and jams, and cookies, and welcomes, and one awkward family home evening visit from fellow ward members/coworker. Mr. X (the names have been changed to protect the identity of the awkward) is a teacher at the middle school. The couple are BYU, music majors in their mid twenties, have been married for six years, and have three kids with one on the way. They also let their kids run a muck around my home while I tried my hardest to make friendly conversation and not yell at their children for climbing up my banister and wrestle next to my very breakable teapot lamp. On their way out they insisted we come over for dinner and video games sometime. Yeah, that will never happen.

And just so you're aware this post took me over a week to finish, so yeah, life is busy, clearly.

Moving Chaos

My OCD is running rampant lately. Packing for a move and having crazy anxiety when things are not clean, neat, and organized are not two things that happily coexist together.

When my house looks like this . . .





I'm left feeling a bit like this . . .

Stay tuned to find out if we end up moving into . . .

this house

this car (fyi, that's my new car)

these peoples' basement

or, if James and I just go completely insane.

I'm betting on the latter!