here's a handbasket...now go to hell!

Someone new found my blog! And through hers I found a flippin' sweet quiz (we all know I'm a junkie for them!)

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
LevelScore
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very High
Level 7 (Violent)Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

I couldn't be more proud...

say it ain't so...

I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life. I got pregnant and thought, "Oh well, 5 more years before I can decide." Well, I think I may have decided already.

The funny thing is, since my kids' godmother graduated and is now teaching, I have felt jealous. I don't envy my social worker friends, or my chef friends (one of whom is opening his own place soon...I'll have the dirt later). My cousin also just took a teaching position, in 7th-8th grade English. That made me just as envious.

I think I'm going to look into teaching junior high school. It's what I wanted to do as a kid. I don't think I can wait 5 more years for college, so I need to decide anyway. I could minor in sign language and just have that as a suppliment. Maybe I could teach somewhere with some deaf students.

Yeah, I think I'm going to start on that.

well, it's Friday...

And that's as exciting as it gets. It's raining out, so swim team try-outs were cancelled and B is upset. Josh and I actually get to go on a date tonight, and my great paddle-boat in City park idea is getting rained away as we speak. Now, I don't want to come across as the overly mushy type of chick who thinks paddle-boat rides with your boy are tragically romantic...I'm just concerned about the size of my thighs these days and thought some cleverly disguised exercise would do them some good.

Speaking of City Park, they have a lovely little fountain that shoots water jets for the kids to play in all summer long. We went the other day and had an absolute blast. I meant to take pictures, but alas, the batteries died in the camera on the first shot. It's a terribly scenic spot in the park, high up enough to see the mountains, right in between the Museum of Natural History and the Denver Zoo. I'll bring fresh batteries next time.

We also did some gardening this week. I tried to get the boys to help pull weeds, but that only lasted about 10 minutes. So I had B raking for me. T decided that he wanted to rake, too, and so asked, "Mom, can I be the rank boy? I want to rank."

Rank. It's cute.

Other cute mispronunciation that we encourage for the sheer adorability of them:
Explode: Kasplode
Next to: Beenext to
Graduate: Granulate

Of course, that's all I can remember right now. The rest will come to me later, I'm sure.

bandwagons...

if I could be a scientist...If I could be a farmer...If I could be a musician...If I could be a doctor...If I could be a painter...If I could be a gardener...If I could be a missionary...If I could be a chef...If I could be an architect...If I could be a linguist...If I could be a psychologist...If I could be a librarian...If I could be an athlete...If I could be a lawyer...If I could be an inn-keeper...If I could be a professor...If I could be a writer...If I could be a llama-rider...If I could be a bonnie pirate...If I could be an astronaut...If I could be a world famous blogger...If I could be a justice on any one court in the world...If I could be married to any current famous political figure...

If I could be a scientist...I would join a team of storm chasers. I'd answer all the technical questions and my big brain would give our team an edge over some of the others. I think I'd most want to chase lightening storms and tornados. We'd drive a big RV and drink too much. Maybe we'd stumble across some bit of information that ended up saving untold lives, but I wouldn't do it for that. I'd do it because storms are beautiful. And thrilling.

If I could be an architect...I'd travel the country redesigning public schools. I would take the drab, uninspiring building I find along the way and scrap them for open buildings with lots of plants and water and courtyards full of easels and grass. I think that the biggest problem (well, maybe not the biggest) with getting kids to go to school is how depressing the buildings are. Case in point: When they built my high school, they copied the blueprint of the county jail. Exactly. That just can't be conducive to learning.

If I could be a musician...I would play bass in a small local band. I would be the best of friends with all my band-mates. We would play all kinds of music. We would never hit the big time, nor would we ever play gigs. We'd just jam in my living room, where my kids could sit by our feet and listen and be inspired. My kids would fall asleep to laughter and music. Just like I did.

If I could be a llama-rider...I'd get spit on. A lot.

If I could be a painter...I'd paint nothing but self portraits. At first people would think I was wacko, and then they'd wonder why the hell I didn't paint something else, and eventually they'd deem me a genius. Ahead of my time. I should clarify, they wouldn't be portraity portraits. They'd all be slightly askew, over-emphasizing some random part of me. And almost cartoon-ish. But not quite. In one, perhaps, my fingers would be too big. Another might be only in shades of blue. Maybe I could paint a small jigsaw puzzle of my T-zone and then mount and slice the canvas so that you could actually put it together. I'd sell the paintings in a small cardboard box for $5.99, and soon I'd be on every coffee table in Denver. And then, the world!