Cowboy up!

Jump into Summer Challenge #2 - Attend a rodeo

And not only did I attend a rodeo, I attended a PRCA rodeo! Does that mean anything to you? Because it didn't to me until I went to it and was told it meant the rodeo was a big deal. Apparently it stands for "Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association". And no, I didn't learn that at the rodeo, I just learned that right now by Googling it.

But before we talk about the rodeo, we must talk about this house I found on the way to the rodeo.

Kinda cute, no?

After all, it is pink.

But enough about pink houses.

Let's talk about the rodeo.


Let's talk about the carnival outside of the rodeo.

I didn't ride any rides, but it looked uber-fun.

Here are roommate Jilly and I as we arrive.

Mum, Style and Nephews 1 & 2 were also in attendance but not pictured. They had better seats than us. Ho-well.
The rodeo was quite the show!

But before we talk about the show, remember how I am a point and shoot kind of camera gal? The pictures that exist will remind you of that, had I not just done so now. :) After reading so many blogs with amazing photos, I think I just assume that that is how photos come out these days. And then I am cruelly reminded that no, no they don't. Not unless you have a kinda cool camera with mad amazing photography skillz.


But back at the rodeo ...

We saw the saddle back and bareback riding.

We saw barrel racing.

We saw the calf roping, team roping and steer wrestling.

Which I hated.

So I didn't take pictures.

I cheered for the cows that got away without being roped.

Seven out of nine, baby. :)

And I took pictures of the ones that escaped.

Blurry, but here is an example.

Good job, baby cow!

We saw the mutton bustin.

And the most popular - bull riding!

But none of my pictures turned out.


But it looked something like this ...

I really enjoyed the rodeo ... minus the incessant talking of the announcer {the longest period of time he didn't talk was seven seconds, I counted} and the roping of any animals. :(

But other than that - wonderful!

And looooong.

But I survived.

And next time - I am wearing a cowboy hat.

And going on the rides. :)

But I draw the line at cowboy boots, no thanks.

P.s. I am a little bored by this post. 100 gold stars for reading. :) And lest you forget, you get 100 gold stars for every comment you make on a Summer Challenge post. I will update them this weekend, yo.

The Breakdown
Entrance Fee: $12 {General Admission seating, more for reserved}
Other $$ Items: $$ for food if desired, $$ for carnival rides if desired


Got Culture?

Jump into Summer Challenge #7 - Attend a Utah Festival Opera & Musical Theatre production

And done.

Pretend I am not totally white trash by attending the Opera in jean shorts and a cheap Old Navy top.

My presence was unexpected and a last-minute request to a ... what are those called? A dress rehearsal matinee.

Not only did I not have to pay to go to it {although, the Utah Festical Opera is always worth paying for!} I actually got paid to be there.

It's moments like these and moments where I am swimming, swinging at the park, at the county fair, at a movie, or at Aggie Icecream and realize I am getting paid that I really, really love my job opposed to the normal "just" really loving it.

The only time I didn't really love my job is when I wasn't able to go on the tour of the Spectrum.

But this post is about the Opera.

We attended "Oliver" and it was fantastic! The scenary was amazing. The performers were perfect.
In fact, the Utah Festival Opera Company has been quite generous to the company I work for, offering free tickets for all of our clients to attend if they wish. I just think that is beyond classy. Our clients probably wouldn't get an opportunity to experience something so marvelous if it wasn't for the generosity of Michael Ballam and those he works with.

By the time I post this the 2011 season will be over. But I would highly recommend to anyone to attend next summer. A Cache Valley summer truly is not complete without going to the Opera.

The only thing I didn't like about the Opera was the grumpy, crasy summer senior citizens. Honestly, their behavior almost resulted in me writing a letter to the editor. Sometimes I think I still should have ... but alas, now they are gone. Peace out, boy scouts.

P.s. Olivia, if you read this: you did a marvelous job! It was so fun to see you perform!

Also part of this challenge was to attend Summer Fest.

Which I did.

Also for work.

But I didn't take any pictures.

I kinda don't feel that Summer Fest and the Opera fall into the same category.

But whatev.

And I am still tired. That's all.

The Breakdown
Opera Tickets: FREE {for us!}, $10-$76 for everyone else :)
Summer Fest Entrance Fee: FREE!
Other $$ Items: To purchase food at the Opera if desired, to purchase food or other items from vendors at Summer Fest



And I feel like I always have.

I am not sure there is any other time I am as stressed as when planning an event.

I'd just rather die than do it.

But considering I am at 110% complete peace with death, that's not saying much.

But I digress, as I often times do.

I was kinda in charge of an activity for church this past month {as I often times am} and it about killed me {as it often times does}.

I say kinda because the amasing Elise was the real head-honcho of it and she does a maaarvelous job  always! But I kinda had to ... put my stamp of approval on it.

It was water kickball. Who wouldn't put a stamp of approval on water kickball? Especially for a combined Relief Society/Elders Quorum activity?

I think it stresses me out because I worry incessantly about all that could wrong ... Liiiike what if the faucet I was responsible for finding to fill up the first and third base bucket, the second base pool and the slip n' slide from third to home ended up not working? But that is just an example of what could go wrong.

But if it had gone wrong ...

You would have to relocate last minute ... from Adam's school/park to who in Heaven's name knows where?

Because the relocation could not occur at any church house or accompanying pavilion in Cache Valley. And certainly not at any any park. Water is apparently a hot commodity and locked up everywhere these days!

But after much stress and near self-spontaneous combustion, if this had happened, the fabulous Emilee would find a location ... Probably on the blessed campus of Utah State University.

And the wonderful Sarah Pope would then be left at Adam's park/school to inform the masses of the relocation, had this happened. And speaking of masses, that is the kind of texts that would need to be sent out too to inform everyone of said relocation.

But that would have never happened, right?

This is not us on the blessed campus of Utah State University because the faucet at Adam's park/school was not working ...

Or maybe it is.

Because it wasn't.

Em, Elise & Mindy. I look like Goliath compared to them.

So I had another photo taken so I would look the same size as them. :)
About five minutes after the activity began I realized I may have been stressing a little too much about nothing. It all worked out and we had a maaaarvelous time.

Or at least I did. :)

The adorable pink kickball ... and the kiddie pool which served as second base.
 The biggest hit was the slip n' slide from third to home ...

Speaking of big hits, I am sure shirtless Kevin one was too ...

I scored a 9.8 on that slide in ... Just sayin'.

I could go on and on about how amazing I was at sliding ... or how amazing this activity was.

But I am tired. Thank you, Tylenol PM {one of my new best friends}.

And I really need to turn off the documentary my parents' left on the TV about Saddam Hussein. Yes, I "moved back in" with my parents because the temperatures are soaring again. Blek. And blah. And yes, I do use my parents for the air conditioning. What of it?

P.s. I think there is going to be about a post-a-day this week to catch up on my Summer Challenge! Contain your excitement ... but just so you know, they.will.knock.your.socks.off! ;)


White Trash

–noun Slang: Disparaging and Offensive .
1. a member of the class of poor whites, especially in the southern U.S.
2. poor whites collectively.

Does that definition surprise you?
It surprises me.
I just asked roommate Jillian Jiggs what she thought the definition of white trash was and she said, "Mindy Thornley."
And while hopefully you doubt it ... It's kinda true.
No, I do not have a couch on my front porch.
And while I am not thrilled about the idea of being white trash, it's hard to fight my case with this on my finger:

{Ignore the hot mess of cords in the background.}

This view might give you a better a idea ...

Yes, that is a home-made splint. Made with athletic tape annnnnd ... a broken popsicle stick. That I made. For myself.
I played a mean game of softball Tuesday night. And somewhere between us being ahead {as always} and then, of course, us losing {as always} ... I came away with a potentially broken finger.
I don't mind breaking my pinky finger. After all, I have already done it twice before {thank you Tiffy and sophomore basketball}.
Not gonna lie though, I was a little disappointed because this was my good pinky finger. The one that hadn't decided to break twice.
But because the other pinky finger doesn't know how to play nice, I know how to handle potential and actual broken pinky fingers. Splint. Tape. Ring finger. And voila. You're golden ... weeeell, not your broken finger. It is purple and baloo {a more fun way to say blue}.
Now, to my defense, I tried to get a more legit splint ... coughcoughatWalmartcoughcough. But they didn't have any. So the broken popsicle stick it was.
And just like that, I became white trash.
But I am okay with it as long as it keeps my pinky in place, which makes it hurt less.
It's strange too because now I am compelled to find a couch.
For my front porch.
And possibly a refrigerator for the driveway.
But at least my finger will heal, right? Regardless if it was at the expense of my social status.
I have so many items from my Summer Challenge to post. I am entirely overwhelmed. That's all.


91 degrees ...

That is how hot it is today.

91 flippin' degrees.

And I am wearing pants.

Who does that?

Who wears pants in 91 flippin' degrees?

Oh, I suppose there are some people who do. People who are forced to for work and other people who ... had all of their shorts burned in a tragic house fire? Because honestly peeps, those are the only reasons I can think of why someone would wear pantelones in 91 flippin' degrees.

No, I do not have to wear pants for work.

No, all of my shorts did not burn in a tragic house fire, which leads us to believe there is a third reason for pantelones in this Heaven-forsaken desert heat {have I ever mentioned I live in a desert? Because I do}.

The only other reason I can think of why someone would wear pants in 91 flippin' degrees is because they had a Sharpie war the night before ... and their legs are totally convered in black lines. The same black lines may faintly still exist on my neck and arms as well, which in case you were not aware, are not as easy to hide as the ones on my legs. Unless I wanted to whip out a long-sleeved turtle neck as well ... which I am not even sure I own.


I do own one.

It's black.

And classy.

And I wear it with this uber-cute skirt.

In the winter ...

When my desert Utah gets in temperatures of below zero {not below freezing ... below flippin' zero, at least 30 degrees below freezing}.

But here I am talking about a turtle neck when I really want to be talking about the Sharpie war.

Not only did it leave me with uglay black lines everywhere, and some choice phrases like, "I love smelly feet" written all over me but some serious bruise-age and carpet burns too.


I am a hot mess today.

Literally, hot.

Beacuse if you have forgotten it is 91 flippin' degrees and I am wearing pantelones!

P.s. Pantelones is Spanish for pants.

But alas, fear not for me. I shall soon be sitting in the air conditioned confinement of my parents' home.

P.s. Any ideas on how to get the Sharpie off? Many thanks in advance!  


Oh, the blasphemies and lies!

Back in the early 2000's {is that how you even say that?} I invented a game.

It's called the deodorant game.

And this is how it is played: each player must use the word deodorant at the end of every sentence. The first person not to use the word deodorant at the at of the sentence loses.

I feel like now would be an appropriate time to play that game, deodorant. And you will soon see why, deodorant.

I was listening to the radio the other day while driving to or from work - errr to or from one place to another, deodorant. The night before I had just been eaten alive by mosquitoes at our company softball game {which we lost}, deodorant. So imagine my great pleasure when the radio man mentions a home remedy for the nasty bug bites, deodorant.

Speaking of deodorant, that was the home remedy, deodorant! The radio dude said to reduce inflammation, redness, and itchiness of mosquito bites one should apply deodorant to the bites, deodorant.

Naturally, I believe everything I hear on TV {yes, Three Minutes Legs will get me in the best shape of my life, especially if I pair it with the shake weight, deodorant!} and the radio, deodorant. So as soon I got home I whipped out my deodorant and began applying deodorant, deodorant.

Annnnd, of course, someone, namely my roommate, had to catch me in the act, deodorant.

But Jilly doesn't believe everything she sees/hears on the TV/radio, deodorant.

So she mocked me, deodorant.

But not really being one to care what others think about me to any significant extent, I just kept applying deodorant to my mosquito bites, deodorant.

I went to bed completely convinced that I would wake up and have seen a modern-day deodorant miracle, deodorant!

But this post isn't titled "Oh, the blasphemies and lies!" for nothing, deodorant.

It must include blasphemies and lies, deodorant. And it does, deodorant.

When I woke up I saw absolutely no reduced redness, inflammation or itchiness, deodorant.

I cannot recall the last time I woke up so disappointed, deodorant.

Oh, wait, deodorant. I can, deodorant. It was when I Jilly bought me these babies {yup, my roommates and I sometimes have "As Seen on TV" nights where we go to Ross and for one dollah purchase "As Seen on TV" items and try them out}, deodorant. Not only did I not feel detoxified, they stunk to high heaven and I gagged, deodorant.

Swear words to everyone who lies to me, deodorant!

And I suppose the lesson we could potentially learn here is that you should never believe all you see/hear on TV/radio, deodorant.

But you should believe everything you read on my blog, deodorant. And you should most definitely play the deodorant game at some point today, deodorant. 100 gold stars for each person you get to play along with you, deodorant. 100 more gold stars if you blog about said game, deodorant. And if you don't have a blog, you can post it on FB, deodorant.

Peace out peeps, deodorant.

P.s. Sometimes I really hate blogger. And now would be sometimes. I don't understand why it has so many issues. If I want something in a larger font or a small font, blogger should oblige. I am the human. Do as I say. For humans.trump.everything!


Perfect Picnicking

Jump into Summer Challenge #8 - Find a great spot for a picnic!

And we did.

On the Brigham City Tabernacle grounds ...

This is my big seeester.

Nephew 1 and Nephew 2 ... Nephew 2 is being a sass-a-frass.

overlooking the beautiful Brigham City Temple ...

It's still under construction if you couldn't tell.
  The mother and Style were there too and brother-in-law, Shteve.

Buuut, I wasn't able to get photos of them. Doh.

But we were all there. And it was fantastical.

Thanks CV Magazine for the idea ... Oh, wait. My mama came up with the idea. It just so happened to be on the list too. :)

The Breakdown
FREE! Except for money spent on your picnicking items!


Rainy Day Play

Jump into Summer Challenge #14 - Rainy days do not have to stop the fun - spend a day at the Cache Valley Fun Park!

I found this task to be a little bit redonculous.

Why on this green earth would I go inside to play and "have fun" {remember, if you have to be told you are having fun - are you really having any fun at all?} when I can go outside and play in the rain?

And that is exactly what I did.

I saw the storm clouds a-brewin'.

And it just felt like the perfectly perfect time for a storm.

So when the huge rain drops began to come I turned to roommate Jilly and said, "Let's go out and play in it!"

And we did.

I did some twirls.

And then attempted to find puddles to splash in ...


And lately I have been able to talk Jillian into taking photos with me.


But not really, because skin by nature is meant to keep such elements from the bones and other vital organs, no? And our skin is not defective.

So we were just soaked ... to the skin.

But it was faaabulous.

After I put the camera away {because it does not have water retardant skin} we found more friends to play with.

It was also faaabulous.

So for the next rain storm may I suggest going out and playing and getting soaked to the skin? And you shall have a faaaabulous time as well.

And as far as challenge numero 14 ... Done and done. :)

The Breakdown
Playing in the Rain: FREE!
Check out Cache Valley Fun Park for activities and pricing


Mindy had a little fan ...

Mindy had a little fan,
little fan, little fan,

Mindy had a little fan
whose plastic was white as snow.

And everywhere that Mindy went,
Mindy went, Mindy went,
and everywhere that Mindy went,
the fan was sure to go.

It makes Mindy laugh and play,
laugh and play, laugh and play,
it makes Mindy laugh and play
to be able to be sooo cool.

Cool as in moderately cold, neither warm nor cold but definitely not warm or hot ... as well as cool as in awesome.

P.s. Check out those bangs! I told the hairdresser to cut them "swoopy and so when they are dry they will be right above my eyebrow." Right above? Three inches. Whatev, right? It was fantastic to feel five-years-old again.

That's all.


Celebrate in Style

Jump into Summer Challenge #18 - Attend as many fourth of July activities as humanly possible!

Hi, August.

It's not too late to talk about the fourth of July, right?

In Logan, Utah we have such a quirky little quirk when it comes to celebrating America. We never seem to do it on the fourth of July.

For example, this year we celebrated on the second.

Buuuut, whatev. I suppose it just prolongs the celebration, no?

It started off on Saturday with our big fireworks show.

Look, Clairence and I matched. Matchy-matchy striped shirts.
And we blinged it up with some glo-stick bracelets.

These other peeps were there too ... But I honestly don't know who the dude on the left is.

We had matching curly hair too! Bahah!

These are the kind of fireworks that glitter! Needlessly to say, I heart them.

But that was all on the second day of the seventh month.

Remember how on the fourth I started my day off right with a Boy Scouts of America pancake breakfast fundraiser across the street from my house?

Wow. Wasn't that a long sentence?

Stabi, Brent, Mindy, Jillian & Clairence. We came right out of bed. In our pajamas.

I then had to hustle to my parents house so we could do this ...


Ride our bicicletas {that is Spanish for bicycles} to the Hyrum parade.

Beautiful ride, no?

 I was there too, p.s.

 And guess which bicicleta I rode? I had like 10 little girls tell me, "I love your bike!!!" "That is sooo pretty!" "I love it!" as I rode by. One of the best days of my life. Oh, and notice the missionaries in the parade ... Only in Utah. And I love it. They sang, "Called to Serve" as they walked by.

The parade was great. And hot.

And I saw this little truck/trailer in the parade. It was for a hair cutting place.

Gotta be honest, I don't want to get a hair cute from the blonde lady. Just sayin'.

After the parade we went and ate some grub at Olive Garden.

I love celebrating America by eating Italian food.


Buuuut I had to then meet up with these folks again ...

 Mindy, Jilly, Jordan & Clairence

To go see more fireworks!

We had to re-bling ourselves up ...

God bless America, we matched again!

 It was at this point that the mosquitoes took over our lives.

So we had to hide from them.
And little did we know, we were located about 50 meters from where the fireworks were going off. We literally were laying underneath them! It was fantabulous ... minus the few times parts of the fireworks fell from the sky merely feet from us.

This is what a firework looks like when you are underneath it.

Not a whole lotta different than when you are just viewing it from the side, no? At least when in photo form.

I have a couple more of what I think are super-dee-duper photos of fireworks from the evening but Blogger is being the bane of my existence right now, so I will put them up later.

I felt like this was a hecka long post. 100 gold stars for reading it all the way. You are a big deal and should feel proud and pleased with your little self. :)

Peace out, peeps!
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