I bet he sings "You'll Be In My Heart" during oral arguments

So I just realized that there's an eerie resemblance between Phil Collins and Chief Justice Roberts. Am I right or am I right??

Only allowed for accountants and engineers. I should know because I'm an English-ist Political Scientist

What does a bachelor's degree qualify you to say about yourself? Not a lot, right? I mean, good job, pat on the back, you learned a lot, snap a photo, here's the diploma, we salute you, but you don't get to introduce yourself as "Gurrbonzo, B.A." right? RIGHT. Yesterday I started class (and spent a lot of it worrying that our cute baby was flipping out, but apparently she handles 2 hours away from me better than I handle 2 hours away from her) and despite the size of the class, everyone introduced themselves. Not surprisingly, there were many former political science majors in the room (because the only thing that qualifies you to do is go to more school). Moments later, we start discussing interpretations of the Constitution, and some kid behind me raises his hand and proclaims, "Well, as a political scientist, I approach this in the following way..."

HOLD EVERYTHING. Did you get a Ph.D. and neglect to mention it? Do you work for a think tank?? Do you measure election results in test tubes?? If a bachelor's degree means this fellow gets to call himself a political scientist, WATCH OUT WORLD. Turns out my college buddies just got a lot more impressive: "My friend the economist..." or "My friend the organizational communicator..." or "My friend the art historian..." or "My friend the biologist" or "My friend the international relations theorist..." Who cares if they're secretaries and/or working for the man? We sound awesome.

Thinking about this reminds me that it's time for my mid-morning nap

And now it's time for an e-high five. One of my nearest and dearest buddies Supalinds just rocked the hell out of a triathlon, and when I say “triathlon,” I don’t mean one of those sample-cup-from-Costco ones where you swim a lap, bike for half an hour and slap a 5K on the end (though she does those and tends to kick everyone else around on them), but one of the “do people really do that? I always thought it was a myth” ones you hear about occasionally or see on TV and think only drugged-up pros or speedy Kenyans ever think about. ONE OF THOSE. She’s been training like a maniac for months and months and yesterday became an IRONWOMAN, swimming 2.4 miles (sh*t you not), THEN biking 112 miles (mmm hmmm, that's right, like riding your bike from Provo to Logan, folks), THEN throwing a full-length marathon on at the end just for good measure. That's 140.6 miles in one day without a motorized vehicle, ON PURPOSE. She's like our very own Sayid, unbelievably good at everything hard and the one person you want on your side if you do something dangerous.

And for those of us whose competitive exercise involves seeing if we can walk around the neighborhood before the cute baby gets mad, 12.5 hours of competitive triathl-racing is impossible to imagine, but possible to shimmy about, so join with me in shimmying for this rockstar friend of mine, and please think I'm a little cooler just for knowing such a champ. SUPALINDS FOR PRESIDENT!

Blogging about this is like...

Be honest, you don't know the difference between a simile and a metaphor either, do you? Well, I rarely keep them straight, but the Internets reminded me that a simile is when the word "like" is involved, and if there's one thing you can count on in this world, it's that the Internets don't lie. And with that, may I present a couple recent funny similes:

Briefing every case in law school is like mowing your lawn by grabbing fistfuls of grass.
Going out with a friend's old boyfriend is like wearing your sister's hand-me-down underwear...you just don't do that.
Seeing a Sig at the Gateway is like seeing a teenager at a high school.
Lisa Simpson, about Nelson: "He's like a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a vest."
and my personal favorite...
Mom blogs are like family Christmas newsletters on crack.

Deep thoughts about cancer and racism

The other day a nice lady about shat herself when she saw me walking with our cute baby (strapped in what's been called a Swedish Chest Saddle) and as we started chatting, she asked me if I "had a degree." When I said I was in law school, she--kid you not--shrieked and said "NO WAY! No way! GOOD for YOU! With a BABY?? Wow wow wow wow WOW!" and just stared. I laughed awkwardly and said something like "Hey, thanks, you're making me feel like a rockstar," and she said "You ARE a rockstar! LAW school??" And for a brief moment, I felt like I'd cured cancer. Then I remembered that all I'd done was get knocked up while enrolled in something that involves paying knowledgeable professionals to publicly berate and humiliate me and wasn't sure why I was being so congratulated. Sometimes, people act so surprised that I'm in law school, it makes me wonder if they think I'm quadriplegic and/or mentally challenged or some other supreme challenge that would make me a good motivational speaker. It also makes me wonder if they've ever opened a phone book and seen how many douches have made it through law school. In other news, Sunday hub and I caught part of the rebroadcast of the June 8th celebration of the 30th anniversary of extending the priesthood to all worthy males and it rocked our socks off. You can watch it here. It was surprised at how nice it was to see black men and a black woman preaching from the pulpit of the tabernacle and was really moved by a black stake president from NJ, I think, who spoke about how his patriarchal blessing said he'd preach the gospel to "his people" so he assumed he'd go to an inner city. Instead, he went to Latin America and realized Latinos were and are "his people" and that we're all each other's people. I've been thinking about that all week. Watch it now. Don't say "don't tell me what to do." Just watch it already. In an uncharacteristic act of bravery, I actually attended an RS activity (and didn't hate it! Progress! Turns out book clubs are a little more up my alley than recipe swaps) during which we discussed To Kill A Mockingbird and how prevalent racism is, even/especially in our vanilla community. And how it's bigger than race, it's just fear of people who are different than we are, in looks or economic circumstances or just life, and how in 4 Nephi, the people were happiest and most peaceful when distinctions disappeared and they had all things in common and there were no manner of -ites. So I have realized that my fear of stroller moms is discrimination and just because we're different (though not all that different anymore, now that I'm a crockpotter and serious crafter) doesn't mean we can't be friends. So if you're a crafty stroller mom, will you be my friend? Actually, just in general, will you be my friend? The end.

A few things I've learned this week

1. In an effort to find a kitchen item you got as a wedding present and have yet to utilize, you may have to venture into the Closet of Doom, so named because it is scary and DOOMLIKE, impossibly full and everything inside it is perched precariously on top of everything else. In digging through the Closet of Doom, you will discover the item you're looking for beneath Clue, a cooler, a camping chair, and a huge box of Sweet & Salty Nature Valley granola bars purchased many months ago which you will begin eating immediately, and you may also stumble upon a Hillary Clinton Boogie Diva doll.

2. If you aren't a crafty person, make peace with that, because venturing into the unknown world of craft two days before Father's Day in an effort to make your hub something awesomely creative will probably result in an embarrassing disaster and 3 separate trips to the crafty store where the women working there will laugh at you for not knowing what the hell "decoupage" is.

3. If your baby happens to poop all over your skirt at church, you can try to act natural, but orange on white is not camouflage.

4. If you feel ambitious and bust through some recipe books looking for the easiest things you can find, and then you decide to use a crockpot for the first time in your life, it will probably remind you of a time right before you got married when a friend said, "Remember, boys are like microwaves and girls are like crockpots," and then you will be grossed out.

unrelated

Question:

What happens if you fill your car up with gas using the pay-inside option, and then your card doesn't work? Or you don't have the cash you thought you did? And the gas is already in your car? Do you have to wash out the hot dog machine? Do they take your license plate number and put it on your tab? I ask not because of personal experience, but because it occurred to me today that I am 25 years old and have no idea what would happen in that situation. Enlighten me.

Reasons You Should Applaud My Bravery

1. Saturday I got in a swimsuit. Six and a half weeks after pushing out a kid. Good job, eh?
2. We blessed our cute baby Sunday and she was really cute and really good and really cute. Same with hub, who refrained from changing her name during the blessing; I shall therefore bear him more children.
3. We actually (gasp!) cleaned up our home in anticipation of the festivities involved in the event mentioned in #2. This includes the bathroom...yikes.
4. I got up in front of the whole congregation even though I was 90 percent sure my boobs were about to leak.