An Announcement

For those of you who don't already know, we are building a house. That's right. We are embarking on a new expedition of sorts. Here are some details.

Location: North east of the American Fork temple.
Designer: Mostly Diego with a little refining from a paid designer
Style: Craftsmen, country, mishmash. I'm not really sure what all constitutes what styles. All I care is that it has a big porch, a big kitchen and lots of windows.
Cost: We'll see . . . .

I am hoping to keep updates going on my blog but things are moving so fast and furiously that I can barely keep up besides writing it all down. So many decisions are made every day that it's almost frightening. Right now we have the foundation and slab poured and they are planning on framing tomorrow.

Faux Hawks and a Reanalysis of Opinions

Do you ever get busy making breakfast, taking forgotten lunches to school, taking kids to the dentist, paying bills, deciding how big to make a laundry chute, and/or stuffing food in your face . . . and then you happen by a mirror and notice that your hair has never, ever looked like that before? That happened to me this morning. I think the hair ended up that way because I was too lazy to wet down and properly redo my hair after running. I made a half-hearted attempt at flat-ironing it but only got half of it actually flat. And the parts that were flat were sticking straight out of my head instead of laying flat.

Or maybe, just maybe, my hair was jealous because it saw Nicolas attempting a faux hawk on his hair and was trying to emulate. Too bad his hair happens to be 3 inches long at the moment and he just couldn't get it to stand up straight. Oh, so sad. I hate faux hawks.

So, I haven't blogged in so long. I don't know what my problem is because I obsessively read others but don't write. Does that mean I am a reader instead of a writer? Does that mean my dreams of being a writer are induced by romantic versions of what a writer is and does instead of a personal need to fulfill? I don't know. I have heard that writers have a great need to write and express themselves. I don't think I have that. In fact, I am wondering if I simply don't have much to express. Has my reluctance to make rash opinions made it so I have no opinions at all? Maybe, possibly. I can't even muster an opinion on that. But I do have an opinion on faux hawks.