where my homie's at?

today was a day like any other.
as i got home from work i found my mom and sisters sitting around the table.
nothing seemed odd about this so naturally i went to the family room to play with the kids. and turn on greys of course. the show consumed me as usual. suddenly i found myself home alone.
i went to the kitchen for some food. this is what i found.


i was troubled by this sign for a coupled reasons. 1. by nature i am rebellious. you tell me not to do something and i can't help myself. 2. i couldn't figure out what was important about anything around. the old Nokia brick phone/paperweight or the upside down cups/magic trick in the making?.. i sat for a few minutes looking. then i sat and ate dinner still wondering. i couldn't stand it anymore so i had to look. i lifted up the cups.
DISAPPOINTMENT. nothing.
some sort of sick joke. my mother knows me well.
but i can play too.

by now my sister was home. she's my partner in crime.

we found the homies.under cup #1 we placed the homie band.

under cup #2.. you decide whats happening.

under cup #3 we have homie P I M P.
and his women.

under cup #4 i put as many homies
as i could. creating a homieslide.

she's gonna love it.

before i end i have to tell you the story behind the homies and why this is funny. (shortened version i know its getting long).
a long time ago me and coco started collecting homies. anytime we went to walmart or any other place with a homie machine we bought one. never left the store without one. it started as a small collection lined up above our piano. it grew.. and grew.. suddenly they were lined up along the window sills and any other space we could find. my mom wasn't too fond of homies anymore. either was ash. she doesn't like clutter. one day she came over when no one was home apparently so did boarder patrol or so she claims. me and coco were devastated. those homies were 50 cents each. they added up.

a long while later we came across a mysterious bag in the back of a drawer. HOMIES!!! we were ecstatic. it was like Christmas. well actually it was christmas because the decorations were up. we stuffed homies in the christmas tree and garland. ever since then its been a game. the homies come out then boarder patrol comes. but they keep coming back. i love my homies.

Men's hearts shall fail them. mormon.org
i love what he says at the end. i always seem to hear the right thing at the right time.

heyy summer.

epic fail at blogging this summer. prepare for a big post of nothingness.

some pictures of summer.

this little guy honestly makes me soo happy.

i love him.
strawberry days. carny always brings out the best of pg.

4th of july. we pretend we can play.


we went to zions. it was gorgeous.
and so good to be with my family.
we went to the arcade. i became a princess.

my neice is cuter than yours.

:) love sunsets.

i'm so grateful for amazing people in my life.

a ghetto sunday.

before you watch these videos i need to warn you of a few things.

#1 me and coco have an odd sense of humor.
#2 yes we always talk like that. in our everyday conversations.
#3 these clips have not yet been rated.
#4 you're about to see how weird we are. and this isn't even the weirdest.
#5 nothing we say can be taken seriously. it isn't fact. not even opinion. just words. word vomit if you will.

we always get crazy ideas. sometimes carry them out sometimes not. this seemed like a good one so we obviously had to try it.

just what i needed.

a speaker read this poem in sacrament today. turns out it's just what i needed to hear. funny how that works. i thought it was worth sharing.

"QUIT! GIVE UP! YOU'RE BEATEN!" They shout and plead,
There's just too much against you now, this time you can't succeed.
And as I start to hang my head in front of failure's face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene.
For just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children's race, young boys, young men; now I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear; it wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope. Each thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son.
And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes of fire.
To win, to be the hero there, was each young boy's desire.
And one boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought, "My dad will be so proud."

But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope. He couldn't win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell, his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
Which to the boy so clearly said, "Get up and win that race!"

He quickly rose, no damage done - behind a bit, that's all,
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
I'm hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn't try to race.
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father's face
That steady look that said again, "Get up and win the race."

So, he jumped up to try again. Ten yards behind the last.
If I'm to gain those yards, he thought, I've got to run real fast.
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
There's no sense running anymore - three strikes and I'm out - why try?
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had flew away.
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.

I've lost, so what's the use, he thought, I'll live with my disgrace.
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he'd have to face.
"Get up," an echo sounded low. "Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here, get up and win the race."

With borrowed will, "Get up," it said, "You haven't lost at all,
For winning is not more than this, to rise each time you fall."
So up he rose to win once more. And with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been.
Still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he'd fallen stumbling, three times he'd rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as he crossed first place.
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, unproud;
You would have thought he'd won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his Dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."
"To me you won," his father said, "You rose each time you fell."

And when things seemed dark and hard and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy - helps me in my race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and down and all,
And all you have to do to win - is rise each time you fall.
"Quit!" "GIVE UP, YOU'RE BEATEN." They still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says, "GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

-Dee Groberg

love it.

happy easter!