You're Never Too Old

I love the zoo. It is such a happy and calming place to explore. My family was fortunate enough to be invited to a sneak peak of the new elephant exhibit at The Denver Zoo. It is truly amazing. I am so blown-away by the passion and creativity that has gone into creating this new habitat.

We are regulars at the zoo. We go every Thanksgiving. When family comes we make sure to plan a visit. We try to go as often as possible. This week at work has been exhausting and the moment I walked in the zoo, I felt myself relax and be in the moment. I feel like I grew up at the zoo. I’ve seen it transform year after year.

The elephant exhibit has always been my favorite exhibit. I am in awe of these majestic creatures. They are so smart and so calm and so beautiful. Yes, I realize this is ironic as I fell of a stampeding elephant as a child, but I’ve gotten over it.

Tonight I stood in complete awe as I saw Dolly, a 43-year-old elephant explore her new home. Dolly has been given the gift of space after years of being cooped up in a small, bare exhibit. She’s still adjusting to her newfound freedom.

The following is the ridiculous conversation that took place as I watched Miss Dolly cross a bridge for only the third time. I felt like a proud mother. Pathetic. I know. Deal with it.

Dad: Are you crying? Why are you crying?

Me: I don’t know. I just feel so proud of her.

Dad: You’re proud of an elephant?

Me: Yes. She’s 43, has blisters on her feet, is 3,000 pounds, and is making an effort. How can this not have an effect on you?

Dad: It’s great. It’s wonderful. I’m not going to cry.

Me: Whatever. I think it’s amazing. She’s learning new tricks. I think this proves you’re never too old to learn. I think this proves you’re never too old to change. It’s amazing!

Dad: Wow! That was profound. You went deep there.

Me: I know! Ridiculous. What is happening to me? I’m very emotional.

Dad: Oh, so just a regular day then?

Me: Nice. Really hilarious.

Note: Please calm yourself Robert and Jenny. I know you’re thinking that an elephant took your blog spot. But seriously, elephant trunks cousin.

 Look at her face. It has a smile on it! She's thinking, "I DID IT!"

My Life...How Ironical

i·ro·ny [ahy-ruh-nee, ahy-er-] noun 1. a technique of indicating, as through character or plot development, an intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually or ostensibly stated.

Holden Caulfield once said, “It was very ironical. It really was.” Now, I don’t know that ironical is actually a term, but I do know exactly what he’s talking about. Goodness. Holden Caulfield…that kid just kills me.

Anyway. I’m about to finish my first year of teaching. Let’s be honest, there aren’t enough blogs in the world that can completely capture this year. You’ll have to wait for my first book, The Life and Times of LeMaster-Blaster.

As I reflect on my time as an English teacher, I often think to myself, “my life is so ironic.” If you saw me in high school, you would have thought, “There’s Dayna LeMasters. I bet she studies a lot.”

I wasn’t into pep rallies.

I didn’t like football games.

I had no desire to go to prom.

I literally would have preferred to rip my hair out rather than dress up for spirit week.

Ugh…yearbooks. Gag me with a spoon.

Ugh…graduation. So many things I would have rather done that day.

And so. You will agree that my life is totally ironical.

I sit through hour -long pep assemblies, where I cheer and I scream like a high school senior. I would like to mention that the music has not changed since 2005.

I go to the football games and make sure to rock out my Kennedy High School T-shirt on game days.

I actually went to prom. Like I went. Like I had to stand there and watch kids get their groove on. I would like to mention that the music has not changed since 2005. I would also like to mention that I do not regret not going to my prom.

Yes I do get my spirit week on. Crazy Sock Day rocked my world. I totally looked like Meryl Streep from “Out of Africa” during Safari Day. Neon Day? Forget about it. I looked like a prisoner in my bright orange jacket, but I loved it!

That’s right. I’ve been asked to sign yearbooks. I can officially say that entries have not changed since 2005. I can also say that I find myself still at a loss for words…I did refrain from writing “Having a kick ass summer.” Aren’t you proud?

And yes. I will be sitting through graduation. Graduation. I will wear the black robe. I will pat kids on the back. I will be thinking, “When will this be over?” I will be thinking, “Oh. My. Gosh. They are still playing Garth Brooks’ The River and Green Day’s Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).” God help me.

I have and will love every minute of it. Why? Because I get to go to work everyday and have fun. I get to see kids learn. I get to talk about books. I get to dress up like Holden Caulfield and talk about phonies. I get to teach!

Note: Yes. I’m aware that I may appear to be Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus. 

The Lorax Was a Hit...Dr. Seuss Was Full of S**t.

Last night we took the kids to see “The Lorax.” It’s that new Dr. Seuss film that is full of lessons for kids to learn: Don’t cut down trees…love nature and animals…and most importantly, don’t feed Marshmallows to strange little bear-like creatures.

As I watched the film I couldn’t help but wonder, “Hmm. What is Nick LeMasters thinking, while he munches his popcorn, sips his soda, and watches this movie?”

You should know that my dad is a staunch Republican. How can he not be? He has the perfect Republican hair. He LOVES Ronald Reagan and Abraham Lincoln. Oh. And it should be stated that he enters “The No Spin Zone” regularly.

Registering as a Republican when he was eighteen-years-old went against Phelan family tradition. You see Nick LeMasters was named for his grandfather Nicholas James Phelan, a big time Democrat. The day Nick came home and outed himself to his mother was a sad day in the LeMasters’ household. The story goes, Joan LeMasters said, “Oh! Nicky! If Grandpa Nick knew you were a Republican, he’d turn over in his grave.”

When the film ended last night, Nick LeMasters picked up his grandson and left the theater. They were deep in conversation and it wasn’t until we dropped the kids off that I learned what that conversation entailed.

Me: Did you enjoy the Dr. Seuss propaganda?

Dad: That movie was so full of PC garbage.

Me: You loved it and so did Zach!

Dad: On the way out I said to Zach, “You know Zach, sometimes you need to cut down trees?”

Me: Stop it! You did not say that.

Dad: I did say that. I didn’t want him walking around with that PC message in his little mind. Anyway, he already knew. He told me, “Of course you do, Gramps. We need fire wood.” Kid after my own heart.

Me: That is horrible. You know that fire creates air pollution, right? That’s why you can’t burn on some days.

Dad: You smell that, Dayna? It’s called bullshit and Dr. Seuss was full of it.

Me: You just rhymed.

Dad: Well, what can I say? The Lorax may be a hit, but Dr. Seuss was full of shit.

Dayna LeMasters & The Big Scare

I always feel like my blog titles sound like the name of a Berenstain Bear book. Remember those? Those rocked. My childhood is full of little lessons from those books. But I digress.

Have you ever had one of those days when you just aren’t clicking with someone? It could be your husband, your boyfriend, a friend, a sibling, or a parent. In my case, it was myself not clicking with my dad…starting at 2am on Friday morning. That’s right, friends. 2am.

Growing up I remember begging my parents to let me sleep with our dogs. The answer was always no. Absolutely not. Never gonna happen. Well, things change when your dog turns 16, can’t see, can’t hear, has issues sleeping, shivers uncontrollably, and wakes up at 1am. That’s right, friends. 1am I was awoken by one of the most ungodly sounds imaginable. It wasn’t a bark, it wasn’t a whine, it sounded like she was being tortured.

Shelby the dog started waking up at 1am sometime over the summer. The doctor told us she probably wakes up and doesn’t know where she is…due to the Alzheimer’s. I’m totally not joking. So, I started sleeping with her from 1am-whenever.

Then I started complaining. Why you ask? Well, apparently my neck is a fantastic pillow. Apparently she snores. Oh. Did I mention the morning she fell off my bed at 3am, then got stuck under the bed and started whimpering? I couldn’t find her. It was like that scene in “Poltergeist,” when the kid gets sucked into the TV.

So, to shut me up, my mom went out and bought Shelby a portacrib. Yes. A portacrib. Like a child. We put her in at bedtime, thinking she would be happy that she was in a warm house and happy to be in her own bed. NOPE! 1am wake up call for Dayna.

I know at this point you’re asking yourself, “Why is Dayna dealing with the dog’s shenanigans?” I ask myself the same question everyday at 1am. I was told, “They don’t hear it.” THE LIES! I know they are sitting in bed and laughing and saying, “Don’t get up, Dayna will handle it.”

Won’t I make a great wife/mother? I’m going to be amazing!

Anyway. After falling down the stairs, Shelby got a sore, it got infected, and she went on antibiotics. The antibiotics made her sick, so she had to go on another medication. We were warned that this medication could cause “bathroom issues.” AND OUT OF MY BED!

This is what happened Friday morning:
I woke up at 1:30 to the sad sounds of whining, but told myself she would fall back asleep…so I covered my head with a pillow.

30 minutes later:
Me (A large shadow is hovering over my bed): AAAAHHHH! AAAHHH! AAAHHH!
Dad: What are doing?
Me: JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Dad: I’m bringing Shelby to you.
Me: I don’t want her. That’s why I didn’t get her. Why do you think there is a pillow over my head?
Dad: I don’t know. Here (drops Shelby on the bed).
Me: No. Seriously. I don’t want her.
The sound of my door closing and him leaving me with Shelby.

Later that day…
Me: Seriously? What was that?
Dad: Yeah. What was that? You are ridiculous. I’ve never heard you swear before.
Me: Are you kidding me? You were hovering over my bed, starring at me! You’re lucky I didn’t hit you.
Dad: You threw a pillow at me!
Me: You’re lucky that’s all I did.
Dad: I think we learned an important lesson today. If you’re ever attacked while sleeping, we’ll definitely know!
Me: Wow. That warms my heart. I’m still pissed off.
Dad: Better to be pissed off than pissed on.
Me: Well, with Shelby in my bed, that’s a definite possibility.

*Yes. We are aware that Shelby sounds pathetic. I know you’re thinking it’s her time. We have been assured by the vet that it is not her time…She’s a trooper, so am I.

Nick LeMasters & The Christmas Mix-Up

I love this picture. I’m thinking of referring to them as the “Silver Foxes,” to keep their identity a secret. Too late. They are already famous in the blogging universe. I mean, it truly brought a smile to my face when my friend once greeted my dad with, “Hi. I know you from Dayna’s blog.” Oh! The joy I felt in that moment. Like I was JK Rowling.

I think this blog has brought about many elements of my personality…typically my anti-social tendencies…but it has also identified me as a windtalker. When I say windtalker, I of course mean I am one of the few people on this planet that understands my mom. Remember this? Well, it happens on a regular basis.

You would think that after 33 years of marriage my dad would also have this innate ability, sadly he does not. Without calling them out, I would say one is given to flights of whimsy, the other only deals in absolute facts (you can draw your own conclusions). So when there are misunderstandings, it provides absolute entertainment…for me (and hopefully you).

This particular misunderstanding took place between 2:30pm and 3:00pm on Christmas Day. Yes. I was in the backseat of their car…laughing. I don’t know if I was uncomfortable or entertained. We all know I have an issue with laughing in uncomfortable situations.

Location: LeMasters’ Garage
Time: 2:30pm
Scene: The backseat of the car is loaded with three laundry baskets of gifts, dad is in the car (rushing my mom and myself) with the window down, mom is putting on boots, I am holding a bag full of presents chatting with her.

Mom: Do you know where my glasses are?
Me: No idea.
Dad: I threw them in a basket.
Me: Dad says he threw them in a basket.
Mom: Perfect! I’ll be able to see things at Ryan and Emily’s.

Location: LeMasters’ Car
Time: 2:45pm
Scene: Dad and Mom in the front seat, I’m in the back seat, my mom needs her glasses.

Mom: Dayna, can you find my glasses?
Me: Sure. Dad, what basket did you put them in?
Dad: Um. I didn’t put them in these baskets. I put them in the fruit basket on the kitchen counter.
Me: Are you being serious right now?
Mom: Are you freaking kidding me?
Me: Why would you tell me you put them in a basket, when there were three laundry baskets being brought with us?
Dad: I didn’t think about these baskets. I’m not even sure I said, “I threw them in a basket. I think I said I put them in the kitchen basket.”
Me: OH! Don’t lie. You’re changing your story because you know mom is pissed.
Mom: I can’t believe this. You always do this! You never think these things through. Now I won’t be able to see anything tonight. Why would you say that?
Dad: If I said...
Me: Wooh. Wooh. Wooh. Nope. What do you mean if? You said it!
Dad: You can borrow my glasses.
Mom: Are you freaking kidding me? I wanted my own! Share? Please.
Dad: Fine. I’ll stop at Walgreens and get you a pair.
Mom: Oh. That sounds great! I don’t want some gross, ugly pair of Walgreen glasses.
Dad: DAYNA! Stop laughing. I don’t know how, but this is somehow your fault.
Me: My fault? All I did was ask the location of the glasses. You are the one that told us the wrong location. Don’t blame me for your bad communication skills, sir.

The good news? A pair of glasses was located upon looking through the ten bags my mom keeps in her backseat. Yes. You read that correctly. Ten.

Some Things Never Change...Visits to Santa

For years my mom expected us to get our picture taken with Santa. Like my brother was in his twenties when we finally put a stop to it. Like we probably ruined her Christmas the year we put our foot down and said no more.

Now it’s time for a new generation to get their picture with Santa. What I’ve come to realize when looking at past and present pictures is there are only two poses. There is the “What the hell am I doing on this stranger’s lap” pose and there is the “Are we done yet” pose.

Below are three generations of LeMasters’ Santa pictures. There is a mix of hate and indifference in the photos below. I feel like it represents my family's feelings about strange, old men, who talk to us.

No letters were mailed out, because it was unanimously felt that I share entirely too much information throughout the year. I guess what I’m saying is, all is good on the Colorado front. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

A special thanks to Molly & Colleen LeMasters, who encouraged a blog based on the first photo below.

1959: Nick LeMasters (Age 1), wondering "what the hell Joan LeMasters was thinking putting him on a stranger's lap." Tommy LeMasters is obviously trying to put distance between himself and the crier...Santa makes naughty and nice decisions based on association.


1961: Robyn LeMasters (Age 3), not really interested in the whole picture/Santa ordeal. The ringlets rock, though! I do think it's pretty obvious that she doesn't want the strange, old man touching her shoulder.


1965: Nick LeMasters (Age 7), finally accepting that this guy might actually be magical. Look at his face, he's totally captivated. I'm sure he's thinking, "I'll sit on this stranger for a minute if it means I get a new gold, Stingray bike, with a checker flag banana seat."


1983: Ryan LeMasters (Age 1), not really sure what's happening, but being the appeasing young-man that would turn into the pleasing man, he smiles for the camera...feeling indifferent about the whole situation. I would say that he does look like he's trying to inch his way off Santa's lap.


1985: Nathan LeMasters (Age 1), hating every second of this moment. Tiny, however, sees a new bone in her future.


1988: Dayna LeMasters (Age 1), so begins my phobia of strange, old men who feel the need to touch or talk to me.


2006: Annie LeMasters (Age 1), could really care less about the situation, completely indifferent.


2009: Zach LeMasters (Age 1), I think we can all tell by the red face, and glazed eyes, that somebody was crying about the prospect of sitting on a stranger's lap.


2011: Nick LeMasters (Age 1), obviously trying to figure out the nearest escape route.

Why I Can Never Marry Tim Tebow

Last night as I helped my mom wrap presents for her “work friends,” I stumbled across this picture on Facebook.

Yes. That’s right. That’s my brother Ryan, super excited about the prospect of wearing Tim Tebow’s face on his chest.

Yes. That’s right. Ryan LeMasters is the reason I can never marry Tim Tebow. This is what I chatted about with my parents as we wrapped, curled, and stuffed gifts last night.

Me: See. This is just sad. He’s obsessed. And he only likes him because he can ramble off scriptures at will. Now I can never marry him. It would just be awkward. Ryan would call him all the time.

Dad: You are so right! He would call him up and say things like, “Tiiiim! Tebow! Timmy Boy! Mr. T!

Me: (laughter) You are so right! It’s sad. He’s ruined my chances. And you know I would bring him over and this would be the first thing out of Ryan’s mouth, “We’ve actually met before. Remember when we took a picture together at DIA?”



Mom: They did not! Ryan did that? He has a picture with this guy?

Me: You haven’t seen it?!? Let me show you. I think they have their arms around each other’s waists.

Mom: Oh! He’s cute. I haven’t seen him before. He would look cute with our family.

Me: Okay. This just got creepy.

Obviously this is the only reason we would never make it as a couple. The fact that I'm not really into football and would probably tell him to calm himself down a bit, is nothing to be concerned about.