Kill it!

An article in the local paper about deer. Finally, people are starting to see what I have known all along.


Totally, completely & utterly disgusting!

Last night I headed to the Logan Arthouse & Cinema to watch a friend and his band play. I kinda get nervous going to these kinds of things, they just aren't my thang ... I feel uncomfortable and awkward, like I suddenly don't know how to act. The only other place I feel like this is at dances. But this is all besides the point.

While there, I couldn't help but notice an art exhibit. And by "couldn't help but notice" I really mean it ... because they wouldn't let us into the theatre just yet and there was literally nothing else to look at. :)

So, essentially, if I was choosing to have my eyes open, I was being forced to look at this exhibit ...

I really didn't think much of it until it was brought to my attention the reasoning behind the name of the exhibit, "Blood Works" and how most of the paintings were done in hues of reds and browns.

Do you smell what I am stepping in? Because, that still meant nothing to me. It had to be point blankly stated, "He painted this exhibit with his blood."

Yes. His freakin' blood.

Are you as totally, completely and utterly disgusted by this as I am?

Here are a couple more of the paintings I saw ...

Sometimes, creativity turns into complete creepiness and being that "creative" is a curse, no? It's in moments like these that I don't mind my creative juices don't flow as fluidly as some. Because my blood will remain off canvases and in my body. And I ... I am okay with that. And I hope you are too.

P.s. I am currently surviving a massive blizzard. And if you live in Utah you know how much hype has been made over this storm, which you also know that for a snow storm to make news in Utah it must be a BIG DEAL {like me}. Truth be told, it seems like a normal snow storm in Utah to me, so I am not so much impressed. Buuuut, then again ... I did get out of work early to "prepare" for the beastly weather, so I am not complaining. :)


I have ...

One dad.

One mom.

One brother.

One older sister.

One younger sister.

One brother-in-law.

One sister-in-law.

And two nephews.

These nine people and myself are: mi familia.

We're a tight-knit bunch. The first five mentioned and myself have been keeping it real since 1987, when my little sister was born. My brother and his wife have been keeping it real since 1995. My older sister and her husband have been keeping it real since 1997. Our "newest" additions are not all that new anymore, having been around 10 and eight years respectfully.

Because we all seem to like each other considerably, we concluded to have our first formal/professional family photo taken since, oh 1991?

And here is how some of them turned out ...

The original Thornley fam.

Brother and sister-in-law

Sister, brother-in-law, and nephews

The nephews. Adorable, no?

The nephews with their favorite aunt. :)

The father and the mother


Mama and her girls

Style and his girls ... Yes, that is what we call our dad.

I think this is my favorite. :)

A big thanks to Cali for taking our photos! I have adored her work for just about ever now and was thrilled when it all worked out for her to take our family pictures! She does an amazing job! I would recommend her to anyone!


P.s. Aren't we glad that this post isn't as scandalous as my previous two? ;) Things I am learning to shy away from on Facebook & my blog: politics and BYU athletics! ;) If you know all of their names, give yourself 200 gold stars!


Mike says it best ...

In regards to my "Dear BYU Post" below which created quite a stir, Mike explains what I feel exactly. So I am letting him say it below. :)

As some of you are aware, Mindy recently posted a photo that was taken shortly after last night's USU-BYU game at the Marriott Center. Mindy has been very interested in the amount of controversy surrounding her post. As her good friend, and provider of the photo, she graciously asked me to weigh in as a guest writer on her blog.

Many who have posted on this issue have brought up the word "classy" quite frequently. They have stated that, in many ways, Utah State fans can be disrespectful, rude, and downright vulgar. I will concede that this is true in some cases, but also false in many others. Sweeping generalities are generally (ha ha!) never a good idea. So, I understand where the BYU apologists are coming from. The problem with their argument is that the statement depicted in the photograph below is different than a fan-made sign or chant. The difference is that a university can't control everything their fans say, but it definitely can control everything that gets on the scoreboard. USU has never said or done anything similar in a forum that it controls. A university should be above this type of behavior, regardless of whether it is public, private, religious, etc. The school should do its best to foster good
sportsmanship, not encourage superior attitudes in victory. This type of behavior is consistent with the NCAA Bylaws of Sportsmanship, which state that "NCAA member institutions shall refrain from making a public criticism of other
member institutions, their personnel, the Conference in general, or any game officials" and "Coaches and administrators shall make every effort to encourage their team in a positive manner." At any rate, the "he started it" argument didn't work with your mom, and it doesn't work here.

Now, granted, I highly doubt this was signed off by President Samuelson. Nonetheless, a university, like any employer, is responsible for the acts of its employees performed within the scope of their employment (look at that, I did learn
something in law school!) The smart thing for BYU to do in this situation would be to come forward, say what happened, and apologize. Now that would be classy.

Thank you, Mikey! :)

P.s. To give credit where credit is deserved, BYU released this press release today, apologizing for the fiasco. Now there's some of that class we were hopin' for. :)

Also, in regards to some implications that some of the comments could infer about me being a hypocrite ... I do not participate in the classless shenanigans engaged in by some students of my alma mater. I would have hoped that would have gone without saying. I just love me some Aggie basketball {actually, anything Aggie athletics, including football}.

But it must be said, if some deer would come to the Spectrum, things would be a little different. My manners would go out the window. P.s. We need to talk about deer soon. I know what you are thinking, "Mindy, we talk about deer all the time!" But more is to be said ... more to prove my point that they are plotting the demise of humans! Dun, dun, dun!

Dear BYU ...

I don't know if you have heard of a man of the name Dieter F. Uchtdorf. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf? Does that ring bell?

Well, anyway, he's very well-known in these parts ... and so is this talk he gave at a little meeting called General Conference back in October.

I'll be honest ... I am a little surprised you are not familiar with him or his talk, which clearly you are not, because this showed up on your scoreboard last night after your four point win over Utah State University:

Excellent. I am so pleased that your institution and this attitude reflects the faith I belong to. Way to keep it classy, Brigham Young University. Way.to.keep.it.classy.


Mindy M. Thornley

For those of you who really don't know what President Uchtdorf spoke of, here is a snippet:

Perhaps there is no better laboratory to observe the sin of pride than the
world of sports. I have always loved participating in and attending sporting
events. But I confess there are times when the lack of civility in sports is
embarrassing. How is it that normally kind and compassionate human beings can be
so intolerant and filled with hatred toward an opposing team and its fans?

I have watched sports fans vilify and demonize their rivals. They look
for any flaw and magnify it. They justify their hatred with broad
generalizations and apply them to everyone associated with the other team. When
ill fortune afflicts their rival, they rejoice.

P.s. I know that this attitude is not reflective of every BYU student/grad/etc. Some of my dearst friends and some of the most amazing peopleI know have graduated or are attending this institution.

I also know USU fans have had their moments of lack of class. But my alma mater doesn't receive a dime of my tithing nor does it have any affiliation with my faith, so any comments directed to that route are not really not needed. :)


Hooot pocket ...

I laughed.

I laughed so hard I cried.

I laughed so hard my sides hurt.

Enjoy. :)


Am I a grumpy, old hag?

That is one of my concerns in life.

Okay. False.

The potential of me turning into a grumpy, old hag is one of my concerns in life.

Okay. False.

Sometimes I joke about becoming a grumpy, old hag to others {with no actual fear or belief I will ever turn into one}, even with the dangerous equation of Old + Unmarried = High Probability of Hagness.

It was upon considering this possibility with Camille Nelson Brown the other day that I realized, I might not even, to its entirety, know what the word hag means ... with a minor fear it could entail characteristics of a lady of the night {to put it as nicely as I can}.

Imagine my surprise when I came to a little website commonly known as Wikipedia and was informed that a hag was, "a wizened old woman, or a kind of fairy or goddess having the appearance of such a woman."

Uhm. Was that ever your idea of a hag? Because it wasn't mine. And at that moment any concerns of me one day becoming one, or the idea of me even joking of becoming one were shot down. After all, I am doubtful that I am going to sprout wings anytime soon, I don't sparkle {but my new eye shadow does}, and I don't own even a smidgen of fairy dust.

However, that thought only lasted for a moment, being the educated and extremely literate woman that I am, I continued reading. Apparently my view of a hag came from the shortened version of the Old English term, haegtesse, which means ... witch. Ah, now we're talkin'.

And more importantly, in medieval and later literature, the term hag and its relatives in European languages, came to stand for an unattractive, older woman. Ah, there she be.

So all in all this post exists today for two reasons: a) To let you all know, regardless if you have heard me use it or not, that I have been using the word hag in appropriate context my entire life. And 2) to give you a mini-lesson on the history of hags.

Once Camille Nelson Brown was given all of this insightful information she said, "Wow, I am smarter now than I was two minutes ago."

And now dear readers, you are too. You.are.too.

No need to thank me. Just throw money in my general direction.

For even more insightful information on hags, please go here.


28 months ...

I have an older sister.

On occasion, I call her Tiffy-wiffy-poo-poo-pants.

I think she likes it, although never verbally confirmed by her managerial team.

We are two years apart {28 months to be exact}.

She is the only in-room roommate I have ever had {although, it only lasted until I was like six}.

When we were little we did everything together {we lived in the boonies, it's not like we could go outside and play with other kids ... we had our choice to befriend lots of cows, a donkey across the street, or some goats here and there}, or each other. We chose each other.

Anything Tiffy-wiffy-poo-poo-pants {TWPPP} learned in school, she would come home and teach me. Before ever enterining first-grade I knew how to write in cursive and I knew my times tables. She even taught me alternative ways to spell my name {which I am sure my first-grade teacher loved ... Mindy, Mindi, Mindee, Mindie [I used all of them regularly]}.

When TWPPP took swimming lessons, I unfortunately had Chickenpox and missed out. However, when she chose to jump off the diving board at Riverdale, it never occurred to me that I shouldn't try {because everything she could do, I could do too}.

As I jumped off the edge and began to drown {literally}, it was not the lifeguard who jumped in to save me. It was TWPPP.

As we grew older we built tree houses together, shared our friends ... and even ran together in high school {her being the senior and the top runner on the team and me being the freshman and the second fastest}.

My long-winded point is this: we did everything together.


Which isn't surprising for sisters separated by 28 months.

But today ... I realized that those days ended a long time ago.

Today is the first time I realized that I am never going to quickly follow her footsteps in anything ever again. And I haven't for the last 13 years.

She met one of the most amazing men on the planet at a young age. She for-went going to college to support him through his schooling and then to raise her children.

And as most of you know, my life has turned out completely different than that ... I went to college and graduated {yes, making up your own degree still counts}. I have taught seminary, done the EFY thing, traveled, and am for all intents and purposes a career woman {by necessity, not choice}. No husband. No children. I work 40 hours a week, every week and even use behavioral lingo from work outside of work {which I wish I didn't}. :)

When she was was my age, she had been married for 11 years. She had a nine-year-old son and a seven-year-old son.

We will not be raising our children together. We will not have play dates at the park with our kids. We will never be calling each other in empathy knowing what is like when this happens or that happens.

For the first half of my life thus far, I was her shadow. I followed in every footstep she took. For the second half, I couldn't be further away.

It's interesting, isn't it? How two paths that were so completely intertwined with each other could diverge so far apart just by life and what it brings to us?

Naturally, this isn't to say we aren't close to each other. I see her just about every day, and coincidentally enough, she feeds me treats just about every day {she is the best treat maker. Ever. The end} ... I suppose I just have never thought of how I was always one step behind her for so long and now ... I am one kjillion.

At least she makes me treats, right? :) And she is making fridge magnets for me for my Relief Society girls ... So, all is good, I 'spose. :)


Do you scrapbook?

Because if you do, Allison might have just found the perfect paper for you, I know I am in love with it ...

Well, that is if you are a scrapbooker and deer killer. Because, honestly, what else would you put on paper like this other than your escapades of dead deer. And does anyone else find it strange that people take pictures of them and dead animals?

In fact, my new roommate Claire works at the Macey's photo lab and this past week she developed a photograph with a man, his wife and their baby ... with said baby sitting on the dead deer.

Anyway, we are talking about scrapbooking paper here ... and how the only thing you could scrapbook with this paper is pictures of the deer you killed. Which reminds me, I had a roommate that had antlers hung up in our living room. And part of the piece was a photo of her and the dead beast. Had she known this paper existed, she could have scrapbooked it instead of hanging that hideous picture on my wall.

I once asked her why she thought it was important to have the antlers on the wall. She told me, "Well, if there was a guy over it could be a good conversation piece."

I thought to myself, "Oh, honey. If you are talking to a boy about ANTLERS on the WALL the conversation is going no where. And neither is your relationship with him."

Anyway, as mentioned, Allison knows where this paper can be found. If you need her contact info, please lemme know! Oh, and Allison? I had a dream about you. We were vying for the attention of Lance Armstrong. We were both trying to get him to date us. Undoubtedly, you won his heart. And I got a Livestrong wristband. Figures. :)

I have a photo of the deer antlers that were in my old apartment if anyone is interested. And, of course, when we moved from that apartment I banned the antlers from any room in our apartment that anyone actually went into.
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