Happy Mother's Day Peggy Dee!

Mother’s Day is always a difficult holiday for me because my mom is really hard to shop for. At least, I think she is. I’ve never actually tried. And it’s even harder to celebrate now that I live in Utah because it’s not like I can send a present all the way from here. At least, I don’t think I can. I’ve never actually tried that either. But thanks to our technologically advanced society, I know that a sincere heartfelt blog post will be just as cherished as any old cliché gift, like oh, a diamond tennis bracelet, and it will probably last longer too! So that’s the first reason my mom is awesome, she raised a thrifty daughter that is gifted with words. (Just FYI I’m talking about me, not Kacey. She’s not thrifty, she’s a tightwad. haha love ya Kace!)

So, without any more ado, here are the top ten reasons why I love my mom today. (There’s definitely more than ten reasons why I love her and so they change depending on the day. These are today’s. They could very well be very different tomorrow.)

1.       My mom loves taco bell. Not just loves it, actually. She LOOOVES it. Capital letters, multiple o’s, love. That might be weird but I love that about her. Every time I go to taco bell I can’t help but think about my mom. It doesn’t matter where we’re traveling in the world or what other delicious and exotic cuisine may be available, she is always down to hit up the taco bell. I love it. Plus, I happen to be eating a crunchwrap right now. This one’s for you mom.

2.       I have a hot mom (hopefully this doesn’t embarrass her) but for reals that woman has style. We’re talking Coco Chanel classy and fabulous. I didn’t even realize just exactly how hot she was until I came to college. I’ve worked with teachers way younger then my mom and I’m always baffled when they tell me their age. The woman has a gift. Plus, it comes in handy for me when I’m dating a guy and she comes to visit because I never have to stress about passing the Hot Mom Test. Score.

3.       My mom is one of the most giving people I know, which is why her and my dad were made for each other. Seriously. New to the ward? My mom already has your kids at our house and all your laundry so you have some time to yourself. Funeral? Where can she put the potatoes and rolls? Moving? She has seven kids she will gladly offer you, even though only about two of them would actually be useful. Dee is great and all, but service should have been her middle name.

4.       Speaking of names, my mom gave us great names. Not too creative, but also not too boring. Practical, but still cute. And even though she had a theme, she didn’t sell out and spell Courtney with a K. (Sorry all you Kourtneys out there but your names looks freaking weird. And sorry I said freaking mom)

5.       My mom is smart and she figures things out for herself. Her mother died before she even got married, so she had no one there to show her all the ropes of motherhood. I’m still just trying to figure out how to take care of myself! Plus she can cook, sew, clean, and nurture with the best of them. And run a successful dance studio on the side. And help coach drill team. And make it down to Utah every time Courtney is dancing. She. is. amazing.

6.       My mom thinks I’m a star. I’m aware that this is a quality most mothers have, but it’s still awesome. She thinks I’m way prettier, funnier, smarter, and more talented than I actually am or ever will be, and I love her for it. I always feel so proud whenever she makes one of my sisters call me for advice on hair and makeup. I love that she thinks I’m an expert on all things style, when really I just read too many magazines, buy too much makeup, and more often than not judge people based solely on their appearances. Only a mother could make those qualities seem like a good thing.

*Update on the crunchwrap, this thing is seriously lacking in the meat and cheese department. I hate that. If I wanted a pile of gross, processed lettuce and tomatoes, I would have gone to the salad bar next door. Amateurs.

7.       She’s always sharing her knowledge with all of her kids. Like the time in the car “Lady Marmalade” came on the radio and she taught Courtney and I how to correctly say, “Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir” (Don’t worry she followed with, “It means will you sleep with me tonight, so you’re never allowed to say it again. But at least now you know how!”) Or something more practical like the proper uses of done and finished. “A cake is done, but you are finished.” Super useful stuff. Now I can go up to strangers in the library and say, “When you are finished with that assignment voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” haha. totally kidding mom, no worries.

8.       I love that she loves the movie Baby Mama. Here at school, I judge peoples level of coolness by whether they think that movie is funny or not. I can’t even count how many times my mom has seen it now and she still laughs every single time. Anyone who understands the comedic genius that is Amy Poehler and Tina Fey is a person that I would be proud to call my friend. Or in this case my mom. Can I say Momfriend without sounding like a dweeb? evidently not.

9.       My mom has always been a supporter of my love of cats. I honestly am not entirely sure how she feels about them herself now that I think of it, but she is willing to let me love them no matter how wrong society may think it is. She even does things to fan the flames. She would send me videos of Loola Mae when I got to school, just so I wouldn’t miss her so much. She would text me pictures, or funny stories. She let me buy her an overly bedazzled cat collar (which is another fetish of mine she is more than willing to support. She loves that I love all things pink and sparkly). Everyone reading this may be thinking, wow this is seriously unhealthy, but not my mom. Peggy Earl is a friend to cats, the color pink, and all items bedazzled.

10.   The last reason I really love my mom today is because she loves my family. She has always been an amazing example to me of what a mother, wife and daughter should be. She supports my dad in everything he does, and because of their relationship I know that I am going to have a very happy celestial marriage someday. She takes care of her father and siblings. It doesn’t matter if they’re close or far away, she will be there for them in a second if they need her, no matter what. She never ever lets a problem that needs to be solved get in the way of a person that needs to be loved. She has helped all seven of her children develop strong testimonies of the gospel so that we would be able to stand on our own one day, and there really is no better measure of success for a mother than that.

Mom, we all love you so much. I hope you have the best mother’s day ever because you deserve it. 

 P.S. Sorry foxy ladies  but I had to use the blog for my own selfish purposes today.

update via texting convo

claire and i have been living the dream lately.
if you don't believe me then please observe the following conversation:
"whats up claire? how is georgia?"
"well its good. we watched mulan and went on a walk. thats a party at my house. so yeah, umm georgia is good. how is jeff?"
       side note: claire has always had such a way with words
"Claire doggg i've stayed in so many random houses the past couple days and met like 3 trillion old people who are in some random way related to jeff. I'm kinda over it"
         side note: they usually forget my name even after i've corrected them multiple times. i feel like they are applying shampoo directions when saying my name. (lather [call me wrong name], rinse [i correct them, they apologize], repeat [...and again 10 seconds later])
"haha funny!...I hung out with an old man at church today. he seemed alright"
         side note: man action for claire- SCORE.
"i feel forced to plaster on a smile as i say 'I'm from colorado..yeah its great.' or 'communication disorders...ya its fun' or 'yeah i like to sing...its great'. it gets so old i HATE SMALL TALK. also right now i am sitting in some random office in a house of people i've never met while jeff is socializing with his cousins in the kitchen. this is right up there with hanging out with old men." 
             side note: this house had a canary bird right outside my door. those things should be recorded and used as a ringtone to wake up and annoy every single person in america.
"haha that sucks for you i avoided people at church so i wouldn't have to do that sort of thing. Small talk makes me feel like I'm being suffocated by a plastic bag."




anyways, as you can tell- our lives are just so exciting right now.
you are all probably jealous.
so i went out of way to tell you all what is going on
so you can live vicariously through us
cuz who wouldn't want to small talk with old people?

Airports and Time Travel

I pity the fool that has to sit next to me on the airplane tonight.  I went on a 3 mile run beforehand.  Did I shower afterwards?  Nope.  No time.  Packing?  No. Watching tv?  Nailed it.  I’m looking and smelling pretty fresh right about now.  Also, I’m going pass out as I am done shoving my oversized carry-on into the overhead bin compartment. And I’m a drooler.  And I’m in the middle.  So chances are I’m probs going to drool all over some stranger’s shoulder.  No big.  

So I am sitting in the airport about to start my summer full of adventures. Airports are an interesting place.  They change me.  They cause a stirring somewhere deep within me and put me into what I can only label as “Airport Mode.”  Creative, I know.  Is airport mode a good thing?  If you are a traveler who means business much like myself, yes, it is.  I will not get in your way.  I will not slow you down.  I will not burden you by stopping you and asking you to point me to my gate.  I will not hold you up at the security checkpoint.  I will have my laptop, shoes, and jacket in a container waiting to be scanned through security.  I will not pitch a fit about my rights being violated when I am selected to go through the naked scanner.  I welcome it.  But I do find it odd that I am picked every time.  Coincidence?  I think not.  I will not get on the moving sidewalks and stand there like a pin head.  I will take advantage of those things to quadruple my walking speed.  On the other hand, if you are a small child, an elderly person, a leisurely traveler, or anyone else who gets in my way, Airplane Mode may very well be a terrible thing.  Maybe even dangerous. I am generally a very laid back, agreeable person, but something about airports change me.  I get in this mindset. Pure business.  Move it or lose it folks.

Another thing about airports is that I have the worst luck traveling.  My latest flying adventure involved a terrible suitcase mix-up in which I ended up with the suitcase of a middle-aged man.  The one before that involved me running across two terminals in the O’Hare airport to catch a plane that was waiting to take off because of me.  Did I have a suitcase with defective wheels? Of course.  Was I sick? Naturally.  Did I have an asthma attack? Definitely.  So I’m trying to make a mad dash and I’m huffing and puffing because my lungs are all congested from being sick.  (Without fail, I always get sick after finals week and spend the first couple of days at home out of commission.)  So I have to dig my inhaler out of my backpack.  As I look up from digging around in my bag I see one of those glorified golf carts that they use to tote around old people.  It was empty.  The keys were in it.  Holy heaven send.  I stood there staring at it for a second and as I started to walk towards it I got this terrible flash in my head of my mug shot on The Today Show and Al Roker detailing the story of how a college student ran down a family of five in the Chicago airport in her desperation to get home for Christmas.  I thought that would probably reflect poorly on me, so I used my better judgment and made like a banana and split.  I make it to the gate and there is this woman standing there and asks if I’m Nicole Hamilton.  You know you’re in trouble if the gate agent knows you by name.  Then I get on the plane and I’m the very last row, so I get to walk past every single person on that plane as they glare at me.  Lay off the Hatorade folks. I have never felt so hated in my life.  Except that one time I told a Mexican joke very audibly in a Mexican restaurant.  And this time before that, I was flying with my dog, and he escaped from his cage because he is some kind of crazy escape artist.  For reals.  I called him Houdini.  So I have to run and chase him down and the airport workers are all mad at me and give me a lecture something along the lines of “Ma’am, your dog is crazy as hell, keep your animal under control.”  So I can’t wait to see what tonight’s flying adventures hold.  It’s a redeye flight so I am sure I will not be let down.  Bring it. 

As a side note, if you don’t fly redeye flights you don’t know how to travel.  Redeyes are the greatest invention ever.  You hop on the plane, pass out, wake up, bam you’re there.  Seriously, I fly redeyes every time.  I get on the plane, pass out before the plane even takes off, and don’t wake up until the kind soul next to me gently nudges me awake after we’ve landed.  It’s as close to time travel as you will ever get.  Also, heaven forbid, but in the event that my plane is hijacked or the plane malfunctions and crashes, I will be blissfully unaware.  I'll sleep through it all.  I always have wanted to die in my sleep.  Redeye flights make dreams come true.  They are truly one of society’s most undervalued assets.  

Fox Hall, Friendship, and Farewells

Ladies and gentlemen.  Actually, just ladies.  Specifically my girls Kylie, Brianne, Aubs, Jess, Amy, Claire, Becca, and Kerri.  Welcome to our blog.  A blog?  Yes, a blog.  Bloggity, blog, blog.  You may be wondering, Nicki, a blog?  Has Hell frozen over?! No, it has not. Still as hot as ever.  The fire and brimstone have indeed not turned into glaciers.  Now that the status of Hell has been cleared up, let me explain myself.  No, I am not going all domestic and mommy status on yall.  I have always been a bit of a blog hater, considering them to be just another platform for moms to brag about their kids, recipes, domestic junk, and other stuff no one cares about.  But I am here to tell you blogs can be cool.  More specifically, this blog is cool.  This is going to be our means of keeping up with each other this summer.  The occasional FB status will not suffice.  Not for this gang.  We roll deep.  So this is where the blog comes in.  Yall come on here, give us the dirty deets of your life: shenanigans, run-ins with the law,  hospital visits, hood rat stuff you do with your friends, etc.  You know, the usual.  With everyone going their separate ways this summer- Idaho, Washington, Texas, Colorado, Wyoming, Florida, Georgia, Ohio, Africa, and Aubs holding the fort down here in Provo, I am confident there will be many adventures that will need reporting.  Don’t fail me.

Yall hold a special place in my heart.  The part right next to my dog and Nacho.  WBD.  Way big deal.  We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed until we cried, we’ve laughed until we’ve peed ourselves, we’ve laughed until we justified our laughing as an abs workout and skipped going to the gym.  Words can’t describe how grateful I am that God smiled upon us that fateful day when we made our room selections freshman year.  Our lives would not be the same if we hadn’t ended up in the basement of Fox Hall together.  That’s the cold, hard truth.  And you, my friends, can take that to the bank.

I am going to miss yall something fierce this summer and I will count down the days until we are back all back in the Promised Land together.  In the meantime, yall have a great summer. 

Brianne and Kerri- have fun getting married and playing with the adorable little black orphans in Africa.   Do your best not to get some kind of parasite or a worm or some other disease that is running rampant in the village.  Don’t drink the water.  Unless it is labeled Aquafina or Dasani.  Also, don’t forget to get me some kind of souvenir.  Preferably one of the orphans.  I’d like that a lot.  I would even go so far as to say I would be eternally grateful to you if you brought me back one of the ninos. 

Becca- live it up in Africa as well.  Give the ninos some mclovin’ from me.  Learn a tribal dance that you can teach me when we get back.  Have fun getting engaged to Ben.  Come on, we all know it’s going to happen.

Kylie- have fun teaching the rugrats dance.  Show them our Ke$ha music video for some real dance moves.  Find a cat and give it all your love.  That’s what Loola Mae would want.  Join my petition to Kraft for them to bring back the birthday cake Oreo’s.  And don’t forget the advice of our beloved Skydancers “D the d!” and “I can make it happen, if I really try.  I can fly.  I can soar, I’ve got wings, I can do anything.” 

Jess- tell the town of Carey hello for me.  And Mama Shawna, and the rest of the Parke family.  Eat lots of potatoes, keep the grounds at the school looking spiffy, go rebuild the jump and get some air under those tires, and shoot a rock chuck or two. Or three.  Or four.  Try not to start anymore kitchen fires.  Even though I know you won’t because I won’t be there to spill hamburger grease into the burners.  And most importantly, keep a look-out for Chipmunk Cheeks.  You never know when he’s gonna pop up. 

Aubs- hold the fort down here in Provo.  Make sure the gym-goers are clean shaven and worthy Honor Code abiders.  Keep living the life of an 80-year-old woman- nine o’clock bed time, watching movies with subtitles.  Throw away all your clip-on earrings.  You are a real woman now.  Pay the Provo library your weekly visit and try to convince everyone you come into contact with that Avatar: The Last Airbender is cool. 

Claire- enjoy the humidity of Florida.  Work hard, made that paper.  Dollar, dollar bill, yeah.  Visit some old folks homes.  There are lots down there.  Keep being a baller.  Join me on my excursion to Harry Potter World, and pay me a visit in ATL.  We’ll paint the town.

Amy- rock that visitor’s center in Kirtland.  Send us letters telling us about all the dudes that mack on you despite the fact that you are on a mission.  Simply irresistible.  And don’t worry.  I’ll be paying you a visit in August.  At long last you will meet the Hamilton herd.  It will be a blessed occasion. 

As for me, I’ll be up to the same ole, same ole.  Quoting Nacho, eating refried beans, drawing the infamous Garfield pictures (and maybe one or two of Tony the Tiger), writing poetry, immersing myself in the Bollywood culture, wreaking havoc on society, and adding the prefixes- mc- and sch- to words like it’s nobody’s business.  Schwat?!  Schyou schnow schit.  Schwoopies.  SchI schjust schsaid schit.  I’ll be visiting the family up in Ohio, loving on my dog hardcore, making my way down to northern Mexico (San Diego), dropping in on my North Carolina folk, and living it up in ATL with my black men.  And most importantly, I’ll be keeping it classy as always.

Yall have a great summer.  Go crazy.  Do what you feel.  Make a bucket list.  This is the time to live it up.  Do things you’ve always wanted to do.  Don’t let money or fear hold you back.  Remember, they will always make more money and pain hurts, but only for a minute.  Life is short so go on and live it.  The only restriction is don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  But let’s get real.  That’s not much of a restriction.  You know my only stipulation is to keep it classy.  Take it easy, ladies.  Peace and blessings.