To Be or Not To Be?...That is Piper's Question.

Mom: "Hurry, your ride is here. Get your backpack!"

Piper: "Mom, wait! I have to talk to you. It's really important."

Mom: "Can we talk about it after school? You're late."

Piper: "No mom. I just have something on my mind. I can't decide what I should do."

Mom: "Do about what, Boo?" (slightly frusterated, as her ride waits and waits)

Piper: "I just, just (sigh)...Well, I have been thinking and I can't decide if I should be a famous singer or if I should be a Yoga instructor."

Mom: "Ooo, that IS a tough one, Sis. How about we both think about it today and we'll decide after school. Sound good?"

Piper: "Sounds great! Love you mom!!!" she shouts as she runs to the car and jumps in. But only after she turns to blow me a kiss.

I Present to you Miss Brandelin Stoneman Ericksen...

***Picture above added when Brandi was 9 months pregnant. I can't get the one below this to delete. I wish that I could as we both look a little bit like poo.

As I mentioned before, I am going to enter in some of my old journal entries. I stumbled upon this one a while back and though it is quite old, I feel inclined to share. It was my sister, Brandi's birthday last week. Out of all of her birthdays that we have been apart, which have been many as she moved back to Utah at the tender age of 17 (or was it 18?), this one was the one that I really wanted to be with her. She had a sad day the day before her birthday. Her sweet dog, Toby passed away. With his passing came a deep sadness. It was the kind of sad that not any one person can take away from another person. But as a sister, you sure want to try. Not being there made trying a challenge. I tried in quiet ways like prayer and positive thoughts lovingly sent her way. I hope they helped and still do, as the prayers continue.

Now let me tell you a thing or two about my sister. She can be summed up in one word-TALENT! That girl can do what ever she wants. She can cook, knit, Bikrim Yoga with the best of them, hunt down a bargain, clog (okay that one might be a little rusty), soak up any piece of literature that she can get her hands on, and her art. Her art. Her art. She is an amazing artist. In any medium she so chooses. She might argue, but she knows I'm not exaggerating. She is just one of those people that you could just sit and watch forever and never fully comprehend. Before I enter in the journal entry, let me first explain the displayed picture.
Brandi: "Hey since I am in town, let's get family pictures. It's been 6 years."
Natalie: "I am 9 months pregnant. Could we wait until I am not Natty-McFat-Fat? What's a few more months, really?"
Brandi: "No"
Natalie: "Whatever."
Yes, I had reached that point in pregnancy. The point where all confusion of the mind and heart come together and you care about nothing and everything at the exact same time. So did we get pictures? Yes. Did I care? Not enough to think to not wear a WHITE shirt when I am 40 pounds heavier than normal. Oh well, does one ever regret preserving family memories? That was a longer explanation than I had planned. But it was a lot cheaper than the therapy that I obviously need. Without further ado...Journal entry #2.


6-3-04
I wish the world could know my sister. I was pondering this evening. It was one of those ponderings that only lasted about 3 seconds but in that 3 seconds an infinite number of thoughts run through your mind. It felt like a good, cleansing, lengthy ponder.

I was thinking about how I love my green, raw silk napkin that lays beneath my plate of rocks, (plate purchased at the DI in Rexburg, ID) next to my red vase that I think is just beautiful on my beautiful, charismatic breakfast tray that only costed me $30 and is perched perfectly in the corner in my 1/2 bath. My mind then moved on to Oprah, of course. I began to think how happy Oprah would be in my 1/2 bath that was decorated for such a nominal amount of money. I quickly thought of showing Oprah and Nate Berkus (my favorite interior designer) around my under-budget home and thought how I REALLY would love to show them around my amazingly creative-by-nature sister's home. I imagined her on the Oprah show sitting on her evil eye couch (don't ask, requires too much explaining), sipping hot tea from some herb that she grew in her garden, laughing and looking so beautiful with her hair in a scarf (did I mention that my sister is a hippy of sorts?) and not a stitch of makeup on. Well, maybe mascara- it is the Oprah show. Anyways, I thought "I wish the whole world knew my sister. They'd all be better for it. Funny what one thinks in 3 seconds. Just 3 seconds of a good ponder and I am again reminded of what an amazing woman graces my life in ways she'll never even know. I WISH the world knew my sister!

Ryan, My Love.

So, my husband read my first blog entry and very plainly, as though he were just now coming to the realization, said "you're weird." Rude? I agree. So, inspite of the discouragement I have received from my b.f.f, confidant, eternal mate... I write on. As this blog was created for a journal, I am going to add some of my past journal entries here and there so that they can all eventually end up in the same place; here on blogspot, my new home. Enter in Journal entry #1...

1/28/07

I HAVE HORNS HUNG NOT IN ONE ROOM, BUT TWO. Stranger than that, is that I secretly like it. It reminds me of Ryan and how much I love him. I call them horns, even though I know that the real terminology is “antlers”. I always swore that I would never have horns in my house. MAYBE my cabin. Maybe that was because I don’t have a cabin. So they were hypothetical horns. Now they are real, very real and very hanging in my bathroom and in my den. Looming over me in my moments reminding me that they were once stuck to the head of a very living, very beautiful, very soft, harmless creature that my husband, (my husband!) Shot, watched die, skinned, de-brained and de-hearted, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy. WEIRD!!! However, these horns do in some weird way make me happy because I know that they make him so happy. I do love that boy.

Duane The Dog Chapman...Bounty Hunter

Well, with this being my first blog posting, I thought it quite fitting to write about something or someone very near and dear to my heart. And who else but The Dog? I had a dream a couple of weeks back. I ventured into the world of Bounty Hunting, an apprenticeship of sorts. I was on my first Bounty and I have to say that the thug that we were after gave us a good run for our money but in the end good prevailed. I was, of course, a key player bringing him down and was I scared? NOT ONE BIT (that sentence just reminded me of Dwight K. Shrute…another post, another day). Guess who was scared? Baby Lisa, that’s whom. She was off in the corner…CRYING. Yes folks, crying. Did I cry? Not one bit…trembled, yes. Cried, no. Beth was proud and encouraged me to continue. She said that I had a gift. Bounty hunting is, according to Dog, something that is in your blood. My posterity, to date, has not been in the field of bounty hunting. Steel Workers, Insurance Agents, Beauticians, but no Bounty Hunters. So while it’s not technically in my blood, it is in my heart, which pumps my blood. My bounty hunting blood. So what began as an affinity for a television show, which most find below them, and a dream in the night, is now my path. My path that will lead me to Hawaii and ultimately Da Kine Bailbonds. Never underestimate the power of your dreams. Never.