The Man Behind The Curtain

I know what you're thinking...and yes...my hair does still look like this in the morning.
Santa...No...More like an elf.

I don’t know how Santa treated you as a kid, but he was kinda-sorta-totally awesome at the LeMasters’ house. He would always ate the cookies, he would leave a trail of leaves around the living room (mom was peeved about that), and one year I wrote him a note on Christmas Eve asking for an Easy Bake Oven…and he brought it! He was magical.

Let’s be honest, Nick and Robyn LeMasters did a brilliant job with the whole charade. I can’t imagine the amount of time that went into setting up the night before. No, wait, hold that thought…I can totally imagine it! Why? I got a glimpse of what I believe Christmas Eve used to look like back in the good old days.

Last week we went over to Ryan and Emily’s to watch the kiddos. It came complete with baby-proofed cabinets (damn things), my mom building a fort in the basement, and my dad putting together a toy for Mr. Nick. It took him a good amount of time to put it together…this is how our conversation went.

Me: You all right there? It looks like you’re struggling with the seat.
Dad: These directions are misleading. Look at the picture. What is that? This is ridiculous.
Me: I think you may need to turn the seat inside out and fold it over.
Dad: No. That doesn’t seem right.

A Little Later…
Dad: Oh. You know what I think? I think we have to turn this inside out.
Me: Wow. That is brilliant. I bet that will work perfectly.
Dad: It’s working! Wow. Done. This is great. Glad I worked that out.
Me: Yeah. You are awesome. Brilliant.
Having the time of his life.

Nick’s 1st birthday is coming up in a week and I was sent out to buy a present. What did I buy? A fantastic car that he controls with his feet. Yes, assembly was required.

Me: How long have you been working on this?
Dad: A little while. I’ve stopped to watch football as I go.
Me: Wow. Glad you’re paying attention. I bet a wheel will fly off when Nick sits in it.
Dad: I’ve been building things for years. I know what I’m doing.

A Little Later…
Dad: Are you kidding me?
Me: What’s happening? How’s it coming?
Dad: These decals are ridiculous. The adhesive is too strong.
Me: Wow. That sounds terrible. You know what was also not fun? Carrying that box to my car.
Dad: Wow. I bet that was a real struggle for you. I mean honestly, you practically built this.
Me: I think those eye stickers go on the windshield.
Dad: I’m not there yet. I follow the directions.

A Little Later…
Dad: Done!
Me: I like it. Nicely done.
Dad: You know? Most grandpas or pops or granddads would have just given this to him in a box. I am a Gramps. Gramps builds things!
Me: Ugh. Please don’t refer to yourself in the third person. It’s totally creepy.
Dad: Gramps is awesome.

I would like to add that I just know that my future husband is going to love my commentary at midnight on Christmas Eve.

The Great Debate

We all do different things with our money. If I had 450 bucks just lying around I would head on down to Anthropologie and buy clothes. By clothes I mean a pair of pants and a top…That store is ridiculously priced…I still love it, though. My mom would use 450 dollars on the backyard. My dad uses the money to buy a new driver…leading to one of the greatest conversations I have ever been subject to!

Mom: You just bought a new driver.

Dad: No. I bought one 5 years ago. The technology changes all the time. I could have bought one 2 years ago, but I didn’t. I waited. It’s time.

Mom: This is ridiculous! You just want a new one because you think that it’s going to get you to the hole in one swing.

Dad: Not one, but less. Yes.

Mom: This is stupid. What happened to wooden clubs?

Dad: Are you kidding me? It’s not even a comparison.

Mom: So you’re saying that if Arnold Palmer used wooden clubs he wouldn’t be as good?

Dad: You only know his name from the drink! He would be good, but not as amazing as if he had the newest technology.

Mom: What about bowling balls? That technology hasn’t changed there.

Me: What are you talking about?

Mom: Oh. Be quite! Okay. What about tennis rackets? There is nothing wrong with wooden tennis rackets.

Dad: Are you kidding me? If you used a wooden racket against someone with the newest strings you would be killed.

Mom: Yeah, but if we both had wooden rackets, I bet we’d have a great time.

Dad: Right. Whatever. I’m saying that if you’re playing competitively, you want the best.

Mom: OH! WOW! Competitively. I didn’t realize you were competitive. I had forgotten that you played for 50 cents a hole once a week. WOW!

Dad: I’m competitive with myself. Dayna, help me out here!

Me: No. I just got yelled at. I’m out of this. I will be blogging about it, though!

Mom: Whatever. Go get your asshole drive.

Dad: Wow. There is no reason to get like that! I don’t like curse words.

Me: I think she meant asinine.

Mom: Exactly. Whatever. I’m not the only one using words incorrectly around here. Competitive. PLEASE!

I would just like to say that if this is the biggest argument I have with my future husband after 33 years, I will feel completely blessed. I would also like to add that my dad did get the new golf club and he was like a child on Christmas morning.

The Escape Artist

I should probably preface this entry by saying that my dad called me yesterday to say, “Dayna. I’ve got your next blog.” Little did he know, I already had this idea in the back of my mind…but yesterday’s events were kind of the cherry on top of the sundae (I think that’s the phrase).

Since my mom was my age, probably even before that, she has always had a way with people. She’s a talker. Small talk, short stories, long stories, it doesn’t matter. She can talk with strangers or friends or family. I did not get that gene. I only talk to people I know well. I’ve never been good at the whole small talk thing. Apparently this is a skill you can learn, I haven’t accomplished that yet.

My mom is also charming. So, mix charm and a whole lot of talk and what do you get? A get out of ticket free card!

2 Weeks Ago:
Mom: I got pulled over by a police officer this morning at 4:30.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. You finally got a ticket! What did you do?
Mom: No. I did not. He pulled me and over and when he came to the window I said, “Are you okay?” He thought that was funny. But honestly, he was acting really weird when he pulled me over.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh.
Mom: Yeah. So he said, “Do you not use signals?” and I said, “Not at 4:30 in the morning.” So he wanted my ID but I couldn’t get it out of my wallet and I told him I was going to the hospital and that I had a headache. He asked if I was going to the hospital for the headache and I said, “Silly! I work there.” Anyway. He said forget the ticket. He just looked at my name badge and said I could leave.
Me: If I had pulled you over and you started talking like that, I would have given you a Breathalyzer.
Mom: I know! Anyway. I just kept thinking I’m glad he didn’t see me driving down the road and treating red lights like stop signs.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Why were you changing lanes that early anyway?
Mom: It’s not my fault that some 75-year-old woman was driving in front of me. I wasn’t putting up with that.

Yesterday…While on the phone with me….
Mom: Oh. Just a second, some police officer is waving at me. “What? Oops. I’m sorry. I’ll slow down.”
Me: Wait. What just happened?
Mom: Oh. This officer was waving at me and I yelled out the window what and he said the speed limit was 25 and I was going 35.
Me: Did you stop?
Mom: No. I just said sorry and kept going. I’m watching him out of the mirror. He’s just laughing.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Wow. Okay. This is ridiculous. Anyone else would have gotten a ticket. I think you’re a little escape artist!
Mom: Yep. Record is still clean!

I should add that I think my dad holds a lot of resentment about these events...his driving record is not too pretty (Always the speed traps).

Top LeMasters Quotes...This Week

1. If someone called me drunk at 1am and said, "I need you" I'd be furious. -Robyn LeMasters after hearing Lady Antebellum's Need You Now.

2. I found my keys. They were in with the Cheetos. -Robyn LeMasters

3. If I found a fairy, I'd smash it. -Zach LeMasters, Age 3

4. I'm perusing Dayna's Facebook. I'm allowed to...It's all about me! -Nick LeMasters

5. So anyway I told the vet that if I was bleeding in a cave, I'd let a dog lick my wounds. -Robyn LeMasters after being told by the vet that dog's saliva having healing abilities is most likely a myth.

Heidi's & Colonoscopies

As promised…A story about Nick LeMasters’ belligerent ways when he has any sort of surgery. This story comes from his colonoscopy. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, mostly because he’s going under the knife for some sort of nose/smell issue. Apparently, he has a 70% blockage. Personally, I say keep the blockage. I’m at 100% smell capacity and it's no picnic. The things I’ve smelled…

We’ll see if the surgery even happens. I think he was a little put off when my mom told him about a patient that came to the hospital. Apparently, he had the same procedure and has had a constant runny nose for the past year. This story was followed by her telling my dad, “I’m not going to put up with that.”

Anyway. About a year ago my dad went in for his colonoscopy. I had never seen him on any drugs before…but this way eye opening. He came home with my mom and was totally out of it. He sat down on the couch and the following exchange happened as my mom was putting his clothes away.

Mom: Nick. What are these?
Dad: What?
Mom: These socks?
Dad: I got them at the hospital. I liked them.
Mom: I specifically told you these were not to come home with us! They're gross. You snuck them in the bag when I wasn’t looking.
Dad: Of course I did! I love those socks.
Mom: See. This is why I hate when you get stuff done. You think you’re a little general and in charge…I’ve got news for you buddy…YOU ARE NOT. These are going in the trash.

1 Hour Later:
Dad: I’m hungry.
Mom: I’ll make you some cream of wheat.
Dad: I’m not eating that! I want a sandwich. Let’s go to Heidi’s.
Mom: We are not doing that. You need to rest. You shouldn’t be eating that big of a meal anyway.
Dad: We’re going. I want an egg salad sandwich.

We Drove to Heidi’s…He ate half a sandwich and turned white…he threw up on the way home…

Mom: Are you kidding me? I told you this would happen!
Dad: It has nothing to do with the sandwich. It’s your driving. Anyone would get sick.
Mom: So we’re done with this conversation. Go take a nap. We’ll talk when you’re not being mean.

Looking forward to next week! I’ve got news for you Nick LeMasters, we’re not taking any orders from you!

The Case of The Stolen Shoes

We’ve been having some troubles over here at the LeMasters. What is wrong, you ask? I will tell you. It’s called Robyn LeMasters stealing Dayna LeMasters’ things. That’s right. The number of times I’ve walked in on her wearing a shirt of mine or ugh a pair of shoes (disgusting). Yes. As of recent I’ve been missing shoes…only to find them on my mom’s feet…while she works in the yard.

2 Weeks Ago:

Me: What’s happening on your feet?
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: I mean those shoes.
Mom: I know aren’t they cute?
Me: Yeah. I should know! They’re mine!
Mom: I don’t think so. No. These are mine.
Me: My checkbook would beg to differ.
Mom: Wow. Selfish.

Saturday:
Me: I like that owl shirt.
Mom: Isn’t it cute? I forgot I had it. It was in the ironing closet.
Me: You didn’t forget you had it. It’s not yours! It’s mine.
Mom: No. You gave it to me. You said the neck was funky.
Me: You made that up. That never happened!
Mom: Well, I’m wearing it.

Monday:

Me: Those shoes are cute.
Mom: Stop right there. These are not yours!
Me: YES THEY ARE! STOP TAKING MY SHOES AND PUTTING YOUR SWEATY LITTLE FEET IN THEM.
Mom: THESE ARE MINE!
Me: Lies!

Dad: Let’s just calm it down. I mean the number of times I’ve heard about you taking mom’s stuff and stretching it…
Me/Mom: What are you talking about?
Dad: I recall a boot-stretching incident.
Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT WAS 2 YEARS AGO!
Mom: Oh. Yeah. I still haven’t really gotten over that. Those were my favorite.
Me: Wow. I think you got over it. You’ve bought at least 20 more pairs of boots since then…
Mom: Yeah. See, Nick, this is why you shouldn’t talk. You don’t really know what you’re talking about.
Dad: How did I become the bad guy?

Tuesday:

Me: Are you kidding me?
Mom: What?
Me: Those are mine.
Mom: No they’re not. They barely fit me. There is no way they are yours! You would never wear these.
Me: FALSE! I do wear those. Wow. Look at the dirt stains. They are ruined.
Mom: Put them on right now. They won’t fit you.
Me: That is so gross. Your foot has been in them for at least an hour.
Mom: PUT IT ON!
Me: Fine. See? Perfect fit.
Mom: Well. You never wear them, so they’re mine.
Me: You now owe me like three pairs of shoes. What are you going to do when I leave? I feel like an epic throw down is going to happen.
Mom: No it won’t. I’ll just say take the craphole things…SELFISH!

Single Mormon Seeks Eternal Partner

Where to begin this story? I guess I should begin by informing you all that Mormons tend to marry young. So, when you’re a 24-year-old, single, Mormon, girl…people start to think that there is something wrong with you. Honestly, I may as well be a 45-year-old woman, with 12 cats (I dislike cats, so at least that will never happen).

I think it has been determined throughout writing this blog that I am a bit anti-social and a bit of a nerd. Who can we blame my outcome on? I think it’s perfectly okay to blame the anti-social parents, the junior bishop brother, and the comic book geek brother. Yes. This is how I became a 24 year old, anti-social, single, Mormon, nerd. Thanks LeMasters. Big thanks.

This was only reinforced a week ago when the junior bishop, Ryan sent me an email. An email entitled: “Mormon Men Waiting Longer To Marry, Worrying Church Officials.” After reading the article I immediately wrote him to ask, “What the hell he was thinking sending me this?” He told me, “I thought it would make you feel better to know that guys are just losers now a days. They only care about having a good time. So you shouldn’t worry about getting married.” UM, THANKS! Guess I totally have something to look forward to.

Despite my glass half empty view of the world, I still plunge ahead. This meaning, that yes I still attend Family Home Evening on Monday nights…despite the horrid Communication Seminar. So, last night I headed out, but not before this hilarious/depressing/ridiculous conversation took place.

Mom: Why are you dressed up? Where you headed?

Me: My favorite place EVER! Family Home Evening. I’m going to ask you something. It may sound a little strange, but do my eyebrows look weird to you?

Mom: I honestly can’t see your eyebrows without my glasses. Why would you ask that?

Me: I may or may not have had a plucking mishap. So, I may or may not have used a pencil to fill in the holes. Now I’m nervous that I will start sweating and my eyebrow will drip off.

Mom: Wow. That will get you some attention.

Me: Great. Big help. Hey, dad. Look at my eyebrows. Do they look weird?

Dad: Are you sure you’re asking the right person?

Me: Come on? Seriously. Tell me.

Dad: The left one has a hirer arch.

Me: Are you kidding me? I meant do they look too dark! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE LEFT ONE HAS A HIRER ARCH? OH.MY. GOSH. I’m not going.

Mom: Don’t be ridiculous. Just cover it with your bang. I’m looking now and they do look a little weird. One is definitely longer than the other.

Me: Wow. I’m not going. I’m going to get a blizzard. It will be stupid anyway.

Mom: See! This is why you’re single. You should go and when it turns stupid you should turn to the guy next to you and say, “Hey! Let’s get out of here and go grab a blizzard.”

Me: Wow. You know what would happen in that scenario? I would end up asking the guy that thinks covering toilet paper with duck tape and then playing dodge ball with it is totally awesome. That’s what would happen.

Mom: That’s probably true.

Me: Ugh! I’m leaving.

These are the eyebrows in question...

This is how I left my mom…in heaps of laughter. Laugh it up. Laugh it up.

1 hour later…

Mom: So, how was it?

Me: They played human checkers. I left. I got us blizzards. Now I’m going to cuddle up on the couch and watch the new X-Men movie.

Dad: Hey! I saw a commercial for a single Christian website!

Me: I’m going to need to insist that you stop talking now.

I would like to inform you that the X-Men movie is fantastic…even though I was ashamed to buy it. I would also like to inform you that the blizzard was delicious. Lastly, I would like to inform you that I’m a Taurus, I like long walks on the beach, I love sunsets, love dogs, and I can probably tell you the given names of any comic book character. Call me…unless you’re weird or creepy or have bad teeth.