Poor 15" alien snowman rockstar :(

Is this depressing or what?

the Best of all worlds collide

20? Huh?

I figured since most of you weren't here for my silly but awesome birthday, I would post all of its small joys and great moments.

First off, this is the kind of morning I woke up to. GORGEOUS.

It doesn't snow to often here, and the blue sky is almost unheard of. I can't stop looking at this picture! So pretty! It made me giddy.

After my giddy moment looking out my window, I heard a small birthday parade coming down the stairs, bearing gifts of incredible food and smiles all around.

Jake was pretty interested in my french toast

The kids gave me this home made box with a rock (oh, geode) in it. Awesome.

Us Christensen's have this thing for Jackets. We all have way too many, we wear them all, love them all, and to us they are all very different. And I'm pretty sure that if I was in the Mountain Hardwear store, this would be the jacket I would pick out of all the hundreds. I LOVE IT!!! (How do you like my bathroom model shot? Oh yes.)

These blessed creatures also made me a poster. I laughed my buttons off. "Happy birthday to our "junior" cousin Cami! Your such a ""sweetart" we love you to "pieces". You're the best nanny in the "milky way" for taking care of the "baby" and the "3 musketeers"! You make us "Snicker" and "laff" at your "nerdy" jokes. Your so "smart" that we want to pay you "100 Grand" on "pay day"! We'll fight the "Big Hunk" who tries to steal our super "Starburst" We love you, from Ellie, Amy, Jacob, Seth, Jayne, and Sam"

Sometimes Jayne and I make up our own entertainment

After laughing all morning, I decided to brave the "snow day" (a skiff on the road that canceled school) and go to work. I had this fantastic mexican lunch. (Yikes, bad picture).

After work I went shopping at H&M, then I went to dinner with Seth and Amy at the Cheesecake Factory. It was incredibly delectable.

Then at about 10:34 these flowers showed up attached to my friend Marc. I can't ever remember getting flowers before, so I was pretty dang stoked :)
(They have now taken up permenant residence on the back of my toilet because everyone thinks they are stinky and they had to be in a confined space. So my bathroom smells oh so... duftend)

Yesterday I came home to a stack of mail on the counter. When I was growing up, I never got mail. Not ever. Unless it was a notice from the library or something. So deep inside, I still feel uberly spesheel getting things in the mail. Jayne sent me this epic water bottle that I have wanted forever... I loves it...

Melissa Lewis sent me this card that had... me... all over it.

That woman did some serious scrap book digging to find these pictures. I love Melissa Lewis.

Matty the Mexican sent me this card and...

A CASTELLI BIKE HAT! (Please excuse the bathroom modeling. again).
I may or may or may not have worn it grocery shopping.

But it wouldn't be a birthday without a har-de-har card from Grandma Nette.
I love you guys. Thanks for the incredibly memorable birthday :)

Farewell

Farewell to my teenage years.
You will not be missed.

Lago Washington pabellón español

A few months ago I was called to be the pianist in the Spanish ward. They didn't have anyone to play the piano, and you know me, always looking for something weird to do.
Well today I discovered something amazing. The ward is about 35 minutes away from my house. It's not in my stake, or even my mission boundaries. I don't speak a lick of Spanish. I am the only white girl in there.
When I tell people my calling, they always give me the strangest looks. I'm used to it. But I guess it is pretty weird. Why me? Of the hundreds of pianists in the area, including in their stake, why was I called?
Last night, Hermana Firpo texted me wondering what songs we were going to sing today in Sacrament. Uumm... Am I supposed to pick those? I opened my Hymn book (which is in Spanish) and randomly picked 4 songs. I just felt like whatever they were, they would be good. I sent her the hymn numbers, and this morning when I got to church and started playing, H. Firpo kept shooting me strange glances. I can't even read Spanish facial expressions, so I would just smile at her then continue playing.
After the meeting, she came up to me and said, "Hermana Camille, you are inspired" Huh? Why? She told me that the topic of the meeting went perfectly with the hymns I had chosen. I had no idea, because I couldn't understand what the meeting was about, but I guess it worked out perfectly. Coincidence? I think not.
Since I can't understand the speakers, I usually take the time to read my scriptures. Latinos are incredibly quiet during Sacrament, so it makes for good studying time. And for the past 3 weeks that I have played the piano for them, amazing things have happened. I always find questions when I'm reading the BOM, and every time I have one, it is answered when I attend my Sacrament meeting a couple hours later.
So when people are confused as to why they called me to play the piano in a completely random ward, I just smile. It's not random. I know who called me.

Every Woman's Dream

Seth and Amy decided to pack up the family and head south for the weekend, and I decided to kick it at home. Then I got the brilliant idea to work on some projects that just weren't getting done with 4 midgets running around.
I'm not saying I'm a woman... But if I were, this is something I would love to do.
And I did love it.

I went around the house and opened cupboards and closets and judging by my facial expression, I decided which ones needed help.
I then headed to my friendly neighborhood Ikea and Target for supplies.
This is what I came home with, hehe.
(The best part about this is, it's not my house, and not my money. Love you Amy!)

What's behind door number one? AAAGHHH!! Scary nightmare. These doors are rarely closed, because the blankets and sheets and children and towels and tablecloths are always spilling out.

Ta Dah! Amazing what a few boxes will do.

Door number 2 was even worse. Can we even call this a pantry? This door was never closed. There was everything but children inside. They tried, but couldn't fit.

It's not as beautiful as I hoped, but hey! We have a lot of food! It has to go somewhere.

Door number 3 was the nightmarest of them all. I didn't stage this. The expression that covered my face was worse than when I see... Oh gosh... I can't think of anything worse than this. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. And the whole neighborhood. Pretty sure the fare housing committee would have condemned our house based solely on this cupboard.

I pulled everything out, put down some shelf liner, used some of my dandy little baskets, and even added my towels that weren't there before. There is more under the sink now, but it works!

It only took 2 trips to Ikea, 3 trips to Target, and 1 trip to QFC. And a trip to a whole new undiscovered realm of my brain that had never been explored.
Can I go to sleep yet?

Sweet?

I'm making a cake, and it calls for Sweetened Condensed Milk. I bought some, and when I took the lid off I took a little finger swipe which was then magically lead into my large mouth hole. Lo and behold, I tasted nothing.
Right when I think I can taste sweet, something crappy happens.

SVU part 1

Remember how one of my goals was to save for college? Well this is the college I'm saving for. And every day, I get more excited and happy that this is the school I have chosen to try my hardest to get into.
I first heard of SVU about 4 years ago when my family was visiting some of my dad's cousins in Virginia. I was half way through my first year of high school, and if anyone said the word "college" I almost threw up.
Luckily for me, I kept hearing the name of the school in random places. I had a few random friends decide to go. I looked into it. I forgot about it. I heard about it again. I'd decide I was delusional. I forced it out of my head. Till Christmas last year.
Since Christmas, I can't stop thinking about it. I signed up for an open house in March, bought my plane tickets, and have had so many awesome experiences already.
I'm going to Virginia! IN A MONTH!!!!!
The school has 800 students. It's one of the smallest but best ranked Universities in the country. As I fill out my application, my personal Admissions Counselor calls me and tells me what she thinks I should put down, how I should word things, and when my deadlines are. She called me about an hour ago and these were her words. "Hey Camille! I was just looking at one of your essays. It looks great so far. You might want to delete that part about xxx before you send it in. Hey, would you like a T shirt? I just got a box of them. I'll send one to you. Oh, I just talked to Grace, you're going to be staying in her dorm while you're here for the Open House. She's excited to meet you. Would you like to eat on campus while you're here? I'll get you a food card. Can you get your application sent to me before the end of the week? There's a scholarship that just came up that I think would be really good for your situation. I'll get you set up for it. Talk to you soon!"
... Awesome?
So if you think I'm crazy for wanting to go to school on the complete opposite side of the country, yes, I am crazy. But it is incredible. So far.
The end.

Journal entry. I know. Calm down.

If there's something you know about me, that something might be that I like to wear different colored socks. Or it might be that I like to write to myself. Sadly, this post is not about socks, it's about writing. Psyche!
After writing every night I go through my entry and decide if it's a good one or not. In the end, it doesn't matter what I think of it, I never change it or even look at it again for, ummm sometimes years. Tonight I'm going to share mine with you. (Jayne, I hope you have a defibrulator on hand. Sharing my journal can cause heart attacks.)
Here it goes.

Thursday, in my room, 10:44pm

Days are so short with kids. We get up, eat breakfast, leave for the next few hours to school and work, come home, quickly get done with homework, "play", eat dinner, then go to bed. I'm kind of glad I missed out on living short days as a child. I always had long days. Nothing to do except build forts with my siblings and jump on the tramp with the sprinkler. Or go skiing. All day.

I'm also glad that life changes. I'm glad I have more to worry about than if it will be hot enough to run through the sprinkler or cold enough to ski. I'm glad I have responsibilities and things to do. I'm glad I have people to take care of.

I went on a bike ride with Jayne today. The sun was out, I hooked up the trailer to Bella Bestia, and we rode for about... 45 minutes or so. There is never enough time, like I said earlier. Someone has to be picked up or dropped off or fed or cleaned. So 45 minutes was actually pretty impressive, I'm thinkin. There's something about the Burke Gilman trail that just cuts out all my sharp edges in life. I ride along and smell the river and the moist air and look at the tall trees that line the path and take in all the pretty green fields and rolling hills, and.... There's just no way the sharp edges of life can thrive there. Calm conquers.

After dinner we went to the 6th grade play of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was cute. And it only lasted 45 minutes, which rocked. We came home and the kids went straight to bed, and I cleaned and got partially caught up on laundry and watched some trash TV. I'm so alone and somehow just not really lonely. At least I don't think I'm lonely. Am I lonely? I would like to have someone, of course, but I don't ache for someone. I like living in peace. Seattle is good for that. There's this giant blanket of melancholy over the whole pacific north west, making everything cozy and leaving nothing perfect.

I need to go to sleep. The washer is going to be done soon, and I want to be asleep before it beeps so I won't be tempted to put in another load.

Night!


That was a somewhat edited version... I promise you didn't want to know the rest.
Welp, I'm obviously off my rocker this evening, so... See ya.