Island Parkour.

We jumped off the roof. We built a luge run. We sledded behind a 4-wheeler. We played the hot lava game. We fell. We tackled each other. We got covered in snow. We danced. We froze. We yelled a lot...

I can't say it enough.

I love this place.

My nickname.

In the spirit of giving I've decided to clear up an often confusing feature of this blog -- my display name.

When I decided to document my life for the world I thought it would be prudent to write under a semi-false identity -- a pseudonym, a nom de plume...a literary nom de guerre, if you will. A proverbial mask for my civilian identity. As if I were a superhero...who publicizes her superheroic exploits. And I don't think I need to assure you that my exploits are superheroic.

Ahem.

To be more direct, several years ago my parents adopted two boys from Ukraine. I called them The Russians, they pronounced my name Loh-rra and thus a nickname was born. Plus, Lohra Miller ran for District Attorney sealing the form of this nickname forever. Yes, I have a nickname that is merely an alternate spelling of my actual name...what?

Here's a brief video for documentation.

Ho Ho Home.

I am from an out of the way place known as the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The U.P. The Siberia of the Midwest. Home of "da Yoopers, eh?"

There are a lot of rednecks up here. And trees. And deer. And the largest population of Finnish people. And their accents.

This Christmas my brother invited me to go ice fishing with a couple of his buddies and I felt obligated to go. As a regional experience. I felt ashamed as an official Yooper never having been, you see.

...I don't recommend it.

We sat around for 4 hours in the semi-cold and caught two tiny fish...which might be fine had we been hanging out in a sweet canoe on a pretty, warm pond or in the middle of a lazy river...but probably not even then, actually.

It turns out I don't care for fishing. At all. Surprise, right? I would much rather be doing something else...anything else. Like stunt sledding, for example!

...and by stunt I mostly mean leaping off a sled as it goes off a jump.

Yeah.

It didn't always go so well.

Attempted Superman + leap frog = random awesome times at the Shearer household.

Merry freaking Christmas.

I mean that.

Hypochondriac.

Now, I'm not generally a very dramatic person. Whether you agree or not is irrelevant. I want you to know that what I am about to tell you is not commonplace.

There are times, especially with regard to my physical health, that I default to the most extreme explanation. Random splotch on my face? Skin cancer. Small toes? Oxygen deprivation at birth. Can't run? Asthma. Headaches? Brain tumor. Migraine? Stroke. Except that one was legitimate. What would you think if your arm and half of your face suddenly went numb? That's what I thought.

Anyway, it's kind of a weird anomaly of my personality. Oh, I'm sure there's an explanation -- probably a result of something my parents did to me as a child. Or didn't do. Or maybe it goes back even farther than that...

My dad was out here this week. My 80-something year old grandmother, Gigi, had been staying with my family for a few months and it was time to bring her back home. We were sitting around my aunt's living room chatting when my uncle received news of someone who passed away. Lou Gehrig's disease. A degenerative nerve disorder. Almost as an aside, a quiet thought out loud, my grandma said, "Well...there's something wrong with my nerves..."

And...it may not be funny to you but I laughed so hard I cried. It was the most...ridiculous statement. As if someone somehow missed the fact that she had a progressive and fatal neurodegenerative disease. "Whoa! How'd you get THAT?!"

There she is.

Gigi, thank you for helping me become the woman I am today. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a little fatigued...I think I have mono.

Wave of the future.

So I've been updating my resume in an effort to get a real job and I think that resumes should be used a whole lot more than they currently are.

Think about it, it's a wonderfully brief synopsis of your life -- albeit your scholastic and professional life -- but it could be the perfect answer to some of the most annoying questions in superficial social situations.

"So...what's new?" "What's new? Here's a current copy of my resume. That's what's new."

Or, "Tell me about yourself." "Eh, I'd rather not. Here, read this." Immediately, perfect strangers are aware of your most notable computer skills as well as your GPA. Best foot forward I always say.

Always.

The typical resume could also be expanded to church and dating spheres. Instead of having to fill out information about your previous callings, just hand the bishop your ecclesiastical resume.

"Assistant to the Executive Secretary: Responsibilities include 'being a female presence', carving ice sculptures for bishopric meetings, and running the ward behind the scenes.

False Doctrine Teacher: I think this one is self-explanatory, really. Weird that they would give me this calling but I did what I could with it.

Sacrament Speaker Coordinator: ...it turns out I've only ever held made up callings."

Interested in some tantalizing specimen? Uh huh, marriage resume -- well stocked with several of your most photogenic moments of course.

Something like this would probably suffice.

"Astrological sign: Aries.
Pioneer heritage: Extensive.
References: Available upon request."

Suddenly all the world is an internet dating site.