Quoteables

If someone breaks your heart, just punch them in the face.
Oh sure, it seems obvious now, but you'd be surprised at how many people don't think of it when it's relevant.
Seriously, just punch them in the face and go get some ice cream.

~Chuck Klosterman

via Design Crush and weheartit

Penguin Love

When a male penguin is sweet on a female, he'll search the beach for the perfect pebble to give to her. Once he finds it, he waddles over and places it at her feet. If she accepts, they become life long mates. 

Adorable.  

via long live the queen

Real Love

"Sexiness wears thin after awhile and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that's a real treat."

Joanne Woodward on being married to Paul Newman

Oh just another reason to love Paul.

Laughter.

That's what I'm holding out for.

via Long Live the Queen

Get ready for some melodrama. I'm back in the blogging world and I'm gonna be interesting for a bit. Bah ha ha. Enjoy.

Love Letters

I don't know if I told you, but my new calling at church is Compassionate Service. This basically means that I am in charge of making sure all the girls in the ward are happy/feeling good. I chase away sickness and sadness and support everyone in their endeavors. I remember everyone's birthday and give them a card and cupcakes. I make soup for those with the flu. The best part? I make new friends. Lots of new friends. It is the best. Oh, and I have a committee, lest you think that I am Superman, doing all these things alone.

Anyways, the point is, last night at ward prayer (where we all gather for a thought, song, prayer, and socializing on Sunday nights) I started a little thing in our ward called Love Letters/Nice Notes (thanks for the idea, Kenzie!) Basically, you write a note (or two, or ten! Heather...) to people in the ward. Someone who gave a great talk, someone who smiled at you, your crush, etc. Write them a note!

I am so grateful to the kids who helped me sort and deliver all of them at ten at night. It was so good!

All in all, Valentine's day was a success: Romeo and Juliet, cinnamon rolls, California speed, love letters, heart attacks, and awesome friends. Love love love. We are now reconciled. I don't need a lover to have a great day.


.credit

Valentine's Day. Of course.

Fact: I hate Valentine's Day.

I want nothing to do with it.
Unless the man of my dreams shows up on my doorstep with flowers...
And, let's face it, he's really bad at taking hints and/or just doesn't like me.
So I am resorting back to my original plan of hating on this holiday for lovers.

All you lover-less people, let's get ice cream and chick flicks and fantasize about the perfect man who will sweep us off our feet and carry us off into the sunset.

And while talking of love...
Isn't this the best picture?
I don't really want to get old, but I know that I will have to.
So, more than anything, I want a lover who will hold my hand when we're old.
And I will also be rocking a red coat.

Would you like a ring with your weather report?

Never before have I gotten teary-eyed at the thought of a proposal/general over-the-top mushiness. I guess it's because I never saw a good one before. The Weather Channel rocks. That's all I'm sayin.

via Jo

I Love Me

Becca wrote an eye opening post about how we view ourselves.
She challenged us to write a post about things we love about ourselves.
So, at the risk of being annoying...

I've not really had problems with self perception.
I mean, I've never felt beautiful or glamorous, but I have also never looked in the mirror and felt bad what I saw.
But let me clarify that.
I have bad hair days where I look like a lion.
I have sketchy skin a few weeks out of the month.
I get pale in winter time.
I passed size two back when I was twelve.
I forget to shave my legs.
And sometimes I'm too lazy to dye my roots, so those get pretty noticeable.
But none of these things are permanent.
(Well, maybe the curly hair is...)
I am not my broken out skin.
I am not my fuzzy legs.
I am not my long toes.
Or my soft muscles because I refuse to exercise.
I am me.
Not what I see.
And I have never felt bad when I looked and saw me.

5 Things I Love About Me

1. I am pretty funny. Maybe not to you, but I always manage to make myself laugh. At least once a day I wish that someone was around so I could share something funny.

2. I have a pretty decent nose. I mean, I like it.

3. I can make really good pumpkin cookies. So good, in fact, that I can and will eat the whole batch by myself.

4. I have really nice fingernails. I've never had the problem of them not growing or being too short. They're nice and long and thick and shiny. The perfect nails.

5. I'm good at being nice to people. Not just a fake nice, but I really do feel love for the people around me. Even if we aren't really friends. I just think people are important. And I think that being able to recognize the spark of Divinity in others is essential.

So there we have it.
5 things about me.
Some are vain, some are silly, and all are fabulous.

Your turn.
Tell what you love about yourself.

Young Love

Yesterday, my brother and I had a wonderful opportunity to visit with our grandfather in Georgia. I haven't seen him in years, so I was quite enjoying myself listening to his stories, and then he began to tell us about the time that he and my grandmother ran away to get married. And it was cute and romantic. They drove through 12 states, stopping in each, to try to get a marriage license because my grandmother was only 16 or 17. And her grandmother had the police looking everywhere for them. But they didn't stop until they found someone to marry them. To me, it sounded like a movie. And I loved it. Never mind that they were later divorced. Or that they both later married two wonderful and amazing people that have loved and cherished them for years. For a moment, I was caught up in their young romance that brought about the most wonderful man who married my mother. And it was good.

Kisses

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.
The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get
older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's
red door just to see how it fits. Oh where
does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what? Don't invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious
and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

. The Archipelago of Kisses, by Jeffrey McDaniel. via Peonies and Polaroids
.image via Le Love

Real Love

I had to buy new tweezers today. Because my little brother's Rabbit has fly strike. That is where flies lay eggs on animals when the weather is hot and the animal has a damp spot. The eggs hatch and the maggots make their way into the animal and kill them. It is painful and gross. Poor beasts. And Sam's Rabbit is getting old. Ya know. He can't clean his...*ahem* ...bottom so well. And Sam, being the dutiful pet owner that he is, checks the poor thing over for problems (yes, he wants to be a vet). And then he finds maggots on a very sensitive area. And comes inside with wild eyes, looking for tweezers and iodine. And since my tweezers are the easiest to find, he uses them. And I let him. And support him in his maggot picking endeavors. (By the way, he pulled off about 50 of those nasty little things.)

This is real love. Sacraficing your personal grooming for a bunny's bottom.

P.S. Remember how the Rabbit has to be held upside down for this procedure? And how he let's Samuel pick maggots off of a very sensitive area, holding still the whole time? And he endures iodine being poured on him? What a Rabbit!

Taxi Love

I want someone to like me this much. Any suggestions on where to find such a man?


via Rodney Smith