Sleep deprivation is the true meaning behind Black Friday.

To be completely honest, I've never been a fan of Thanksgiving. With my family, it was usually awkward because someone would not be talking to someone else, or my mom would make some comment about the food I took, or some fight would break out. Everyone would eat as much turkey as possible so we could pass out as soon as we could and escape familial obligations.

This year, we were invited to a Thanksgiving dinner with our dentist and his family. He's a fantastic individual with a family to match, and was appalled when he heard about our lack of turkey plans for this allegedly fantastic holiday. So come Thursday morning, we made a couple loaves of the famous Brigman chocolate chip pumpkin bread and headed over to Draper, UT to spend the day at our dentist's mother's house with two of his siblings and all of their spouses and corresponding offspring. I anticipated feeling very shy and awkward the whole time and wasn't really all that excited about another Thanksgiving.

IT WAS THE BEST THANKSGIVING. EVER.

You know, it makes a huge difference when you're spending the holiday with emotionally well adjusted individuals that are not therapy-phobic. There was a ton of good conversation, little Jack made me a little baby-hungry because of his freakish adorableness factor, and our dentist's mom made the best freaking jello I've ever had in my life (seriously). Though I made a horrific discovery: pumpkin pie? Not as fantastic after experiencing chocolate chip pumpkin bread. Ah, well.

When it was time to leave, I was actually genuinely sad we had to go. But duty called! It was approaching 6:30, and we needed to make sure to get a good spot outside of Best Buy.

Yes, that's right. We camped out. Again.

For those of you who are unaware, last year we camped out in front of Circuit City for the heck of it. People were huddled up in blankets and in tents to get big screen TVs, laptops, cameras, and we were just interested in getting some cheap DVDs (three dollar iRobot? HOLLA!). We received a few hilarious shocked expressions when we told people what we were there for.

This year was different in a few aspects. For one, we were actually after stuff. I had my eye on a fantastic Eureka vacuum that is pet specific with all the beautiful attachments to get pet hair off of furniture. I was laughed at when we were at Thanksgiving and I told them what I was after, but I'm okay with that. I'm also a total teeny bopper and was excited to get Beyonce's new cd for $8. Our plan after hitting Best Buy was to go to Target to get Juno and 27 Dresses for $6 each, and The Holiday for $4. Once my boss heard my plans, she gave me a shopping list. What's better than spending the night on the sidewalk to get sweet deals? Getting even better deals on more expensive stuff with money that's not yours. She was after a blu-ray DVD player, a Nintendo DS Mario edition, and the Sex and the City movie. Wednesday night we went by the store to scope out the layout so we'd be more efficient in going after things, and there were people camping. On Wednesday. As in, the day before Thanksgiving.

Now, that's hardcore.

This year was also different in our preparation. Last year was kind of a whim decision to sleep in the freezing cold on concrete, but this year we were determined not to become human popsicles. We took our very nice sleeping bags that were bought with Black Friday in mind, and they were totally worth it (mmm, warmth). The other biggest difference this year was that given my inherent inability to produce body heat (yay lack of circulation), we brought Peli. She was my personal furnace all snuggled up in my sleeping bag, and spent our shopping time snuggled up in a pile of blankets in our backseat.

At around 2 a.m. this year, people started packing up their tents. This meant we had to move, which is something we learned last year. When people break down their tents, large gaps are made (typically, people standing take up less room than a tent), and this is when people rush in to cut (the cardinal sin of Black Friday that is not treated kindly). So from 2 a.m. until 5 a.m., when the doors opened, we were standing. In the freezing cold. There was lots of dancing on my part to keep warm.

Around 3:15, Best Buy staff came out to hand out tickets for their big items. We weren't sure anything we were getting constituted a "big item", so we had already planned our attack on the store. Since starting our campout, we decided to take advantage of the great deal on the Garmin GPS they had in addition to our vacuum (which is a freaking SWEET vacuum, don't kid yourself). Our plan was to have Bobby go after the Blu-ray and then grab the GPS. I was going up the other side of the store to grab the vacuum and the Nintendo DS, and then we would reconvene to get the movies and CD. Hot freaking dang, though, we were close enough to the front of the line that we got tickets for both the Blu-ray AND the DS, which meant we didn't even have to stress out about it. As the guy was giving us the tickets, he handed us a map, and when I noticed they didn't have the appliances labeled on said map, I asked if the vacuums were in the same place. He looked at me like I was a freak.

And I'm okay with that. Because it's a freaking sweet vacuum.

While the tickets were being handed out, there was a blonde lady who thought she could get away with sneaking up twenty feet in the line to try to get a laptop ticket. Black Friday crowds, especially the Best Buy variety (there was a cop car surveying the front of the line for a reason) do not take kindly to such behavior. A lot of yelling ensued, and the staff were notified (several times) that the lady was not in her appropriate spot, and she did not get her ticket. Molly Sunshine (as I called her) was not pleased and spent the rest of the time in line pulling staff aside to complain and demand free stuff. Another gal came up from further in back and started protesting the ticket process, stating that it was unfair for the staff to hand out tickets for one of the laptops to the front of the line, and then give the front of the line equal access to the other laptop on sale ticket. Whether that was okay or not, this lady seemed determined to start some sort of protest (/riot) and took the same approach as Molly Sunshine, demanding free merchandise to compensate for her long wait. When she was turned down, she got into her car and left 25 minutes before the store opened.

5 a.m. Insanity.

There was the usual pack of people hanging out right outside of the front door that had just arrived that attempted to get in when the rush began. I wasn't too concerned, because I had my eyes on the prize: The Vacuum.

If you are an employee at one of these stores and happen to be working the morning of Black Friday, I am so sorry. It must be absolutely terrifying (and an employee at a Wal-Mart in NY died this morning because of the rush). However, while I sympathize with what you have to endure, it makes me want to claw your eyes out when you insist that I have to get into the laptop line to get my vacuum.

There were very cranky people in the laptop line.

Imagine my dismay when I realized that standing directly in front of me was Molly Sunshine. A few spots in front of her was a guy that had six lap top tickets. He was there planning to pick up the laptops for himself and for all of his friends that camped with him while they got the other stuff they were in line for. Molly Sunshine saw the abundance of tickets, and threw a hissyfit comparable to a tantrum some of my emotionally stunted children clients throw. While I was close to the front of the line, the line was not moving at all due to some complication with the first group of people getting their computers. Bobby called to tell me he got all the stuff he was after and asked what was taking so long. I explained, refraining from cursing Molly Sunshine's (pseudo-) name for making the ten minutes I was standing there absolutely horrific. The guy with all the tickets was actually a very nice guy, and had started the conversation with Molly Sunshine with the (obvious) intent to give her a ticket after asking her why she wanted a laptop, but when she continued to bite his head off, he explained that he was planning to give her one but her "attitude" made him change his mind (and I couldn't blame him). That escalated everything, so I was incredibly grateful when Bobby called and told me to get out of line because he ran in and grabbed the vacuum after they removed the barricade blocking them.

I ran out, and Bobby had the vacuum, the CD, and a couple of Garmin GPS devices. He couldn't decide which one to get, and after consulting with the employees, we went with the more expensive one (and hoo boy, I'm SO glad we did!). While we're struggling a little financially, the GPS was worth getting simply because Bobby doesn't want to drive the whole 16 hours back to Kansas for Christmas, and after the Wyoming incident, he wasn't completely sure he had any other option (patooey!). Complete and utter lack of a sense of direction? No longer a problem.

We got in line to pay, when Bobby started to whine a little bit. He had gotten a ticket for my Christmas present after he got into the store, and was conflicted because he knew I would see it and my present wouldn't be a surprise. Instead of trying to be sneaky, I just got my present today. FREAKING BRAND SPANKING NEW ORANGE IPOD NANO! I don't think I've owned any electronic device as nice. I've named it Barack (Barack out with your hawk out!).

So we got out of Best Buy with EVERYTHING we were after, and had to chuckle at the large stack of giant TVs that were going untouched (yay for a failing economy!). We headed over to Target and got there just as they were letting people in at six, and waited until the line was almost gone before heading in. I was worried that meant we had minimal chance of getting our super cheap DVDs, but they had about a million (no. exaggeration.), so we got our Juno, 27 Dresses, and The Holiday. We endured some more funny looks as we got into line with our few meager items, but we were too deliriously sleep deprived to care, and with all of my goodies, who was I to complain?

Yay for going to bed at 8 a.m. I woke up at noon to get the Ratatouille Bobby downloaded for me to put on my iPod, and am quite pleased with my spoiling. Working at the domestic violence shelter has really helped me relax a little bit with getting things for me. This holiday was typically spent focusing on what to get other people, and I'm totally and utterly content with getting myself some shiny toys.

Black Friday? One of the most fantastic days of the year.

Today also commemorates the third anniversary of the passing of Brianna Reed, a friend from high school show choir and musicals. You're a beautiful gal, Miss Brianna, and your beauty continues to decorate my heart even with your premature departure. See you soon, lady.

String of burned out kitchen lights.

What is it about the molding process that makes each cookie so different? The same ingredients go in, the oven preheated to the same temperature, and yet something happens. The cookie to the left of another could be the sweetest experience the tongue has ever encountered, or it could be the most bitter ever expected to endure.

My tongue has become tired of trying to guess.

Bombarded with greed and selfishness on a daily basis has become exhausting, and I cringe at the lack of emphasis on "self care" taught at Brigham Young University in their social welfare program. Chronically my web browser is brought to http://cuteoverload.com to compensate for a horrific phone call about someone experiencing domestic violence, or a client will come in and some new roadblock was created in the couple hours since we last spoke.

I miss my cat.

Bobby's therapist is really big into the "should" approach. When we feel like we're failures, it's because we're "should"-ing ourselves.

I've been should-ing myself excessively.

My head is screaming with things I want to paint on large brick walls in fluorescent colors with glow in the dark boarders, but instead I find a little solace in stalking the online classifieds and answering pleas for help with information on resources in the community. Sometimes I hope that I'll be out walking, jogging, biking, and I'll come across a little short hair tuxedo cat, and she'll want nothing more than to sleep on my chest and drip little contented saliva drips as I attempt to read around her.

When I was little, sometimes my mom would come into my room and wake me up by rubbing my feet to make them warm. It seems I've never had good circulation, as to this day my feet and hands are always icicles. She would rub my feet, and then put socks on me. After the socks were on, she would rub my feet some more, and the friction would trap the heat for a little while, and for a few fleeting moments, my toes were warm.

I kind of wish my computer screen gave off UV rays.

To be (dis)continued.

Yesterday morning I received an email from my father, one of the first containing actual words from him since my birthday in June (which was the first contact since February). The email was to let me know that Pepper, our family blue heeler that I had essentially grown up with, was put to sleep that morning.

Last evening, as I was returning from a home visit with one of my clients in the shelter's Avalanche, I was pulling into the transitional apartment parking lot (where we keep the truck to avoid scratches and the like when parked in front of the shelter) when I heard a very audible scraping noise. Not only did I completely destroy two of the panels on the truck, but I took out the intercom used to open the gate to the transitional parking lot.

All I need is my wife to leave me, and then I'm a true blue country song. That would be kind of amusing if it weren't so sad.

Crappy Mormon.

The little scientist living inside of me (her name is Francis) is telling me that it's the shorter days and lack of sunlight that is bringing my anxiety and depression out of hibernation. When they talk about depression in psychology classes, they fail to use one important adjective when describing it: annoying. It's so annoying waking up in the morning and forcing your emotions to move up a few notches just to get to neutral (not to mention exhausting). Hello, chemicals in my brain? I have more important things to expend that energy on, thanks. As strongly opposed as I am to the practice, I may be forced to consider going tanning (le gasp), or perhaps purchase a sun lamp.

Christmas season has been in full swing for several weeks now (in my head), so I'm getting antsy to decorate. To comply with Bobby's requirements for his own sanity, I'm refraining from my tinsel attack on our living quarters until the day after Thanksgiving (which I actually celebrate and look forward to more than Thanksgiving itself). I'm all about the fake stuff at Christmas. I like the lights and the trees and the animated penguin figurines on the front lawn (I'm still trying to figure out a way to convince Bobby we need the ones they have at Target and they're totally worth the storage space). The religious aspect? Well, we got a gorgeous Willowtree nativity set last year the day after Christmas (another sacred day in my book) that I look forward to setting up, but other than that, I'm struggling. These days, I'm a little mad at God.

*Cue screeching tires*

Yeah, I know. It makes me a little sick to my stomach just to type those words, but it's true (and I took vitamins on an empty stomach, which may contribute to the queasiness). It's been a little ho hum between me and the Big Guy lately, because try as I might, I don't like Proposition 8. I don't understand it, it confuses me, and it's not what I signed up for when I took the plunge. The election happened, and then I thought it would all be over with, and then I'm bombarded by crap STILL whenever I sign into facebook. Jimminy Christmas, folks, let it go (says the hypocrite who obviously cannot let it go).

Then Sunday morning, Bobby got a call. It was his mom requesting that we fast for her and Trevor.

Trevor's my ALB (acquired little brother). For those of you who might not know it, Trevor is probably the best human being on the planet. He probably would have been translated years ago if he weren't surrounded by such flawed human beings like myself that Heavenly Father knew could really benefit from his example. Trevor was born with William's Syndrome and as a result, his mom was told many things: he would never understand multiplication, would never be able to go to regular classes, etc. Trevor graduated from high school on time taking regular classes and was on the honor roll. He did better than a majority of people I know (myself and Bobby included). Another kicker for William's Syndrome is that you end up with a shoddy heart. You wouldn't be able to tell from looking at him, but Trevor is a prime candidate for instant heart failure. As I'm typing this sentence, he could die. Years ago, his doctors told Mom that he needed a heart transplant. She decided against it, and he's coming up on the time where he would have needed another one. When I was first told about Trevor's condition, I asked why he didn't just get a transplant. They do it all the time on Grey's Anatomy, and it seems very dramatic, but it's always the victory at the end. Yay! Heart transplant! You get to live! Turns out though that t.v. isn't always an accurate resource when it comes to such things (though I still stand by Grey's Anatomy as far as learning life lessons goes). If Trevor gets a heart transplant, he's going to have to pretty much live at the doctor's. He's going to have to take lots of anti-rejection meds, and his quality of life is going to suck for lack of a better word. Right now, he's kicking it. He's a vivacious bugger who gets excited about Spiderman and the Hulk and Batman and teaches himself how to play songs on the piano. He sits in his room and plays his electric drumset to CDs and without having taken a single drum lesson, he's as good as the drummers in Yellowcard and the like. He goes out with the missionaries a couple times a week. But when they look at his heart, the doctors can't believe he's able to do much of anything, and at the very least won't be able to do a whole lot for much longer. So the doctors have told Mom that she needs to make a decision: heart transplant, or let him live the way's been living until he doesn't.

I know it all. God has a plan. It's not a good idea to get mad at God and question said plan, as Job so nicely shows us. God sees the big picture, I see a teeny tiny picture. There is life after death, there's the resurrection, and families are eternal. But when I'm mad, thinking all of those things just makes me feel like God's saying that it's okay to make things horrible because He'll make up for it later. I know I'm being insanely selfish, but why shouldn't I want my kids to be able to meet their amazing uncle? Growing up, I felt so cheated when I heard stories about my dad's dad. My grandpa died trying to get my grandma out of a car after a car accident. That alone makes him incredible, and I never got to meet him. I know I will because there's life after death, families are eternal, God sees the big picture, I see the teeny tiny picture, but I still feel cheated.

Yesterday, in church, there was a gal talking about missionary work. She said the most effective way to perform missionary work was living your life the way you're supposed to and through the happiness that's inevitable by living that way, you'll draw others to the gospel. That seems like a lot of unfair pressure to individuals who are experiencing something difficult to feel happy in spite of the difficult. As an aspiring therapist, I can tell you the lack of validation for depressed feelings does not inspire the individual to feel happier-- it instead makes them feel isolated and weird.

So between the lack of sunlight, the lack of Christmas decorations, and being mad at God, I'm a little sad at the moment. I would rather enjoy a kitten right now.

It's moustache month, according to Bobby, which means it's also stop-shaving-your-legs month.

Attractive, yes?

So four years ago, I went to the temple to do baptisms for the dead for the very first time. My friend Becky and I were leaving from Manhattan, KS and heading toward Omaha, NE. Becky had mapquested the directions, and as I was driving, Becky asked if it would be okay if she took a nap during the 75 mile stretch. I agreed, and as I drove for the next hour, wondered why all the signs said "W" instead of "N" and why when I was supposed to merge on a major highway, I was in the middle of the country. When Becky woke up, we were just outside Mankato.

Fantastic.

Yesterday, Bobby had a race in Heber Valley. It was cyclocross race, and when he was done, he was very tuckered. We still managed to go out to lunch with one of his biking buddies (who happens to also be our dentist) and go shopping in the outlets in Park City before he was ready to pass out. He gave me directions on how to get home, and then went to sleep. I woke him up an hour later.

"Um, honey? Is Evanston between Park City and Provo?"

Yup. I definitely drove to Wyoming.

Worst. Sense of direction. Ever.