The post in which I do not discuss consistency. Not for the faint of… something. I think.

The post in which I do not discuss consistency. Not for the faint of… something. I think.


This post is now officially, and partly, about consistency thanks to the interwebs. Consistency. See? I did it again. Partial “consistency” based part of post over. You could term search all over this bad boy.

I’m now upstairs in the office-rapidly-turning-sewing-room. A lot has happened, as per the usual, right? When you can’t be consist– [OH! You thought I was gonna say it. Didn’t you?] When time passes, life passes. Whether things are going well for you and your family, or horribly, the time still passes. I won’t word everything like an ongoing downer, I promise. But there have been a lot of ups and downs.

In lieu of listing them all out and not giving full appreciation to the photos and just clipping one or two, here or there, I’ll skip that part. I also don’t readily have access to an SD card reader (eyetwitch) so that’s kinda impossible. Sure, I have my phone and the bazillion photos over at Instagram (yup, it’s a link) but let’s face it: my brain can’t handle offering those photos up as the best I can do. When you’re a perfectionist, it gets rather difficult to offer up semi-shoddy work and smile big while saying “HERE IT IS, INTERNET!” Plus, while we do have new phones – the camera’s not fantabulous.

Speaking of new phones – tomorrow I have texting again! WOW! I can actually remember when I used to harass people – okay, not people. Let’s be honest. MY SISTERS. And my dad, HA, about being so addicted to texting. At the time we lived in West Jordan, Utah, weren’t making the greatest amount of money and well – Cam, I love you AND you’re cheap! So we didn’t have texting. This was, you know, back in 2010. So four years ago. Fast forward and I feel like I would never speak to my sisters without my beloved texts! When we got the new phones, suddenly I was talking to three of my sisters all. the. time. Texting non-stop. I actually went over my 3,000 texts for the month of July over 10 days early. Yeah, whoops. So not wanting to pay $0.15 a text I decided to just download an app that would give me a different phone number and basically text everyone via wifi/3G depending on where I was. No big deal.


So if you text me via my phone number and I don’t answer? I don’t hate you. I just suck at not being addicted to texting and sticking to my limit.

If you text me via my “new” temporary number for texting and I don’t answer? I don’t hate you. I just apparently suck at not using all my 3G on Instagram and new texting apps. Facepalms encouraged.

So! Yay for July 10th! Tomorrow I can text to my heart’s content! Or at least, moderately. No more running out of texts!

I apologize for the very intense random topic jumping that has happened so far and that will continue to happen. For those that don’t know, I suffer from depression and anxiety and I’m now on Effexor. It’s been working fantastically expect for the little issue of forgetting to take my pills! I doesn’t happen often but apparently when it does I have some intensely interesting side effects. Increasingly realistic dreams for one. This doesn’t intensely bother me when they involve Nathan Fillion, let’s be honest now, right? But seriously. WEIRD. The last was about being a con-artist. I was trying to escape to Canada by sprinting down a large bridge so I could jump of the edge, flail in the air, and land safely on the sand below. Even more weird? The people trying to catch me (and my super crafty con-artist posse) had created a FAKE Canada! So I had to hurry and run to the REAL DEAL. But rather than being more of an actual trip with passports and the like, it was like crossing the bridge from Portland, Oregon to Washington. Suddenly you were just FREE in Canada, to roam about. And it was empty. With lots of cool abandoned places for my random gang of con-artists to make into our hideout. Except we weren’t hiding because we were in Canada. Interesting logic there. Apparently I had no interest in conning Canadians. Only interest in going to “cool” Canadian grocery stores with my retired partner, Nathan Fillion. And I was Indian. And had a little Indian daughter.

Honestly, it’s not until the following morning that I realize I previously forgot to take my pill, because forget the shaky feeling and the awkward vision effects – I DREAMED ABOUT BEING A CON-ARTIST WITH NATHAN FILLION. Clearly. I may have always been  a dream-in-color person, but even I can clearly tell the difference between a normal dream and a dream with a plot and a resolution!

I was also a great con-artist. With killer dark hair. It was long.

I will now sign off before I completely destroy anyone’s  faith in me (that’s still reading, ha.)

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